#like with the mark of cain he would have known he was wrong so feeling guilty abt that would be like. acceptable.
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society if sam had died in the panic room............................................
#not ideal ending bc the fun comes from the fallout of dean realizing he killed sam but i think that would have been so fucking good.#dean needs to kill sam and have to deal with the consequences of being his brother's killer he needs to become cain.#but not spn cain who ends up being justified bc of his suffering booooooo they didn't even cast abel#he should suffer tho. he should be torn apart by guilt but unable to truly comprehend it as guilt bc he so truly believes himself to be righ#in trying to 'save' sam and at least he died human but his brother is dead and it's dean's fault. i want to break his brain.#i just think dean threatened to kill sam wayyyyyy too much to never actually deliver on it and i think the fact that he never delivered#on it makes it so that dynamic continues bc sure he did literally try to kill sam but he DIDN'T so it's fine. he's fine. they're fine.#they don't need to talk abt it dean doesn't need to think abt it okay. he wasn't wrong.#speaking#also the thing abt sam dying in the panic room is that it's the most 'justified' he gets bc dean truly believed he was right.#like with the mark of cain he would have known he was wrong so feeling guilty abt that would be like. acceptable.#he can't feel guilty for the panic room bc he was right he made the right choice he needed to save sam he made the right choice it wasn't#his fault it wasn't and it was better than leaving sam as he was and and and
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“The Garden’s Keeper” - Tuesday, July 25
Author: Gitten Artist: Dimitri Evans ( @dimitrirmy ) Rating: Teen and Up Featured characters: Gadreel, Castiel, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Crowley Featured relationships: None Length: 80,000 words Tags: Canon compliant, Alternate season nine, Mark of Cain, Canon typical violence Warnings: Major Character Death
Summary: After being expelled from Sam's body, Gadreel is unable to believe in Metatron's vision anymore. He joins Castiel's side and tries to earn Sam and Dean's trust after he makes a risky deal to help them. However, facing Metatron and Abaddon is just half of the challenge as Sam still struggles with feelings of guilt and Dean is losing control fast because of the Mark of Cain. Gadreel has to deal with all of it if he wants to be known as anything else than just the fallen from grace guardian of the Garden of Eden.
Excerpt:
Gadreel looked at the angel he had easily overpowered and the confused look in those eyes assured him that he wouldn’t be able to finish this job. He realized he was feeling conflicted about it, which was a very odd reaction for him. Until recently, killing someone had never felt particularly hard or wrong. Gadreel let go of his already disarmed target. “Change your vessel and lay low, Agiel” he said. “Your survival must remain a secret for the sake of us both.”
The other angel stared at him for a few seconds. “Am I supposed to just hide for the rest of my life? I was…” he began, his voice breaking for a second. “I was doing fine until you showed up, finally building a life outside Heaven… Why couldn’t you just leave me be?”
“I had orders to follow.”
“Orders…” Agiel repeated with disgust. “Not a word that means that much since the Fall, is it? God let us be thrown out of Heaven and our wings be burnt beyond repair so now we even have to walk like earthly vermin instead of flying. He didn’t answer to any of our prayers, no matter how many eons we followed his will. So what orders could be more important and less meaningless than those from God?”
“The orders of a new God” Gadreel replied, hoping to sound more convinced than he really was by the title Metatron had chosen for himself.
Agiel scoffed. “What happened to you, Gadreel? You used to be… well, better than this before your mistake.”
“If you really wanted to know that you would have visited me while I was unfairly imprisoned, brother.”
Gadreel could see on Agiel’s face that he wanted to fight that statement, but the other angel ended up remaining quiet.
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Two Birds With One Saw
Rating: Mature
Archive Warning: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Fandom: Supernatural
Ship: Gen (Dean & Sam)
Additional Tags: Amputation, Blood and Gore, Major Character Injury, Suicidal Thoughts, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Vomiting, Fainting, Season/Series 10, Cure for the Mark of Cain (Supernatural), Phone Calls & Telephones, Ambiguous/Open Ending, Dean Winchester Whump, Hurt Dean Winchester
Wordcount: 2363
Summary:
Dean is going to get rid of the Mark of Cain, whatever it takes. He’s going to have to do it alone.
Dad had taught Dean how to make a tourniquet when he was eleven years old. He’d known how to do it desperate, when you had few supplies and fewer minutes to stop the bleeding before you were carrying a corpse back rather than your buddy. Dean hadn’t asked then, and never did, how many times John got it wrong before he’d gotten any good at them. It wasn’t the sort of thing that occurred to a kid, not one who saw their dad take down creatures twice his size to protect his son, the one he sat out in the open to lure them in. It came to Dean a lot more as an adult when the people dared care about dropped like flies around him.
It felt like their world had gotten so much smaller, though it was already a corner all their own to begin with, only a few familiar faces popping in to say hi. Dad’s bones would be rotted clean by now if Dean hadn’t burned them himself. Jo and Ellen were ghosts that Dean had trouble remembering the voices of. Rufus went out too quickly to say goodbye, and Bobby went out too slowly for it not to hurt. The old guard was down to him and Sam.
And the Mark on Dean’s arm made him more monster than man. Hell, if Dean was someone else, he’d want to hunt himself. Not that it would do any good, down for the count an hour or three and back out of the grave with black eyes and a fuzzy grasp on why he shouldn’t bash his brother’s brains in.
Dean shuddered. His arm was almost numb below his elbow. The tourniquet squeezed the life out of him, but even through the dim sensation beyond it, he felt the Mark digging its claws into him as deep as it could. Dean grinned, drunk off the adrenaline seeing the saw he’d sharpened up for this sent through his body.
And off of the bottles littering the floor around their kitchen counter. It had seemed funny when he handcuffed himself to it: chopping a hunk of himself off where he cut up the deli meat from that little place Sam liked. He couldn’t feel the cold metal of the cuff anymore or the counter beneath his arm. There was only dull pressure left. He glanced down at his fingers and moved them barely. The were tipped in blue.
Dean reached for his phone. He tapped out Sam’s phone number and held it to his ear until he heard it ring. The sound of it rattled through Dean’s skull as his vision swam. He leaned more of his weight against the counter. His other hand clenched up into a fist. The saw glinted his own determined expression back at him, teeth bared for both him and the weapon he’d use to set himself free. Sam’s phone rang twice before he picked it up.
“Hey-”
“I’m cutting it off,” Dean told him. There wasn’t a point in beating around the bush. Sam’s silence was one of shocked confusion.
“Sorry?” He paused, and without seeing him, Dean could picture his frown perfectly, a wrinkle between his brows and his nose scrunched up. He’d been doing it since he was a kid. Dean wondered if Sam knew how much he looked like Dad when he made that face. “Are you drunk?”
“Very,” Dean answered. He’d done his job in worse condition. Sam knew that. “I’m only calling to make sure you start heading home. I don’t want to die of blood loss.”
“What?” Sam said, alarmed now. He couldn’t write whatever Dean was saying off to drunken rambles. Good. This was serious. “Dean-”
“Listen. My arm. The one with the Mark. I’m cutting it off. No more fucking around trying to find a cure. I’m taking care of it, Sammy.” He heard Sam’s breathing pick up on the other end of the phone. He’d be paler, Dean thought, and his eyes would be wide and watery with panic.
“Dean, don’t. You-”
“I didn’t call you to talk me out of it,” he snapped, a tendril of anger that was clever enough to feel like his own strangling him. He tried to rein it back in, but he still sounded like he was trying to bite Sam’s head off. “Get in your car. Go back to the Bunker. Get ready to keep me from dying.”
Sam didn’t say a word. All Dean could hear was his breathing and the faint sound of his pacing footsteps. Dean stared down at the saw. It was so easy. He couldn’t believe they hadn’t thought of it before. If he trusted Sam to make the tough call, he’d have had him here to take the damn arm off himself while Dean was strapped down, but Sam wasn’t capable of that anymore. (And Dean was good at telling him what was going to happen over the phone, but facing down those eyes begging him to stop in person? He couldn’t take the chance that he’d back down. This was for Sam’s own good as much as Dean’s.)
“No,” Sam said, his voice shaking. “I’m- I’m not. I’m staying right here.” Dean glared at the opposite wall. The Mark whispered to him a tempting fantasy, his hands around Sam’s neck, choking him out until the only words out of his mouth were, Yes, sir. I’m on my way.
Dean bashed his fist against the counter. He didn’t have to see Sam flinch. He knew it had happened. No matter how far away Sam was from him right now, he was still scared of Dean.
“What the Hell do you mean ‘no’?” Dean demanded.
“I’m not coming. I’m not going home to find you bleeding out on the floor.” Dean worked his jaw. It stung like betrayal, but he knew his brother better. Sam was aiming higher than that. He was looking for a bluff that didn’t exist, thinking he could make Dean stop if he stayed away. Dean let out a long, slow exhale. Calm settled over him. The Mark’s heartbeat was steady up his numb arm, and he didn’t care what he had to do to silence it.
“You’ve been waiting for this.” Dean knew where Sam was tender, easy to bruise. “Want me to know you keep your word, huh? Same circumstances, you won’t lift a finger to keep me from death’s door.” Sam made a noise, soft and hurt like a prey animal in the jaws of something hungry.
“That’s not-”
“You talk a big game about curing the Mark and saving me, but you don’t mean it. You’re just going to leave me to die.” Dean bit down harder, wringing more pained noises from Sam’s throat with each accusation.
“You won’t.” He didn’t know what Sam’s aiming for, but it ended up as begging. “You won’t do it. You’ll die if I don’t come, and I won’t, so-”
“So what?” Dean took the phone from his ear and set it down, turning it to speaker. “You don’t care enough to come save me. Why should I care if I live through this?” He was already a zombie thrice over, or a ghost, or a demon. If death wanted him so bad and Sam didn’t, why not hand himself over already, get rid of two cursed things with one fell chop?
“Dean-” Sam stopped, like he’d registered the change in Dean’s voice, how much further away he sounded from the speaker. Panic rose in him. “Dean, wait! Don’t do this!” Dean ignored him. The saw had a good weight to it, and Dean had been sharpening it to perfection for days alone in his room. Sam didn’t even notice. “Dean, please!” Sam made a sound Dean recognized as a sob, but that didn’t move him. That horrible pulse was drowning out Sam’s voice, leaving only Dean’s need to get rid of it. “I’ll come!” Sam pleaded, voice cracking, “I’ll come right now, just don’t hurt yourself. I didn’t mean it, okay? I’d do anything to save you. You were right. That’s what we do.”
“Glad you’re seeing reason,” Dean told Sam as he rested the teeth of the blade against his arm. Short hairs sheared away from his skin from how sharp the edge was. Sam’s footsteps pounded over the other end of the line, carrying him obediently back to his car and back to the Bunker. He adjusted his grip on the saw. The angle would be awkward, and Dean wasn’t sure how far he would manage to get through before he passed out.
“You’ll stop?” Sam said, with a beaten sort of hope.
“If you get here and this thing isn’t off of me, forget about saving my life. You saw the rest of it off first.” Dean heard the sound of a car door slamming shut.
“Don’t-”
“Hanging up now, Sam.”
“Wait!” Dean stopped just before he did. He could hear Sam’s shaky inhale. “Dean, if you’re dead before I get there…” He couldn’t finish that. Dean understood. There was no way to get used to the sight of your brother’s corpse.
For only a moment, Dean hesitated. Sam didn’t take his death well last time.
If he died right, that wouldn’t be his problem anymore, whispered something that had learned how to mimic his inner voice almost perfectly. He’d get Sam back eventually when he died, too. That was what mattered. He’d go out in a bloody blaze of glory and get his reward at the end.
“Don’t hang up,” Sam pleaded.
“I don’t want your last memories of me to be me screaming my head off,” Dean said. It had the shape of a joke, but it was built with too much honesty to hold itself up. It crumpled between them.
“Then don’t do this,” Sam said. Dean could hear the sound of Baby’s engine.
“Treat my car better this time.” The tourniquet was done right, but Sam could be minutes or hours away. Dean was starting to realize, no matter how tight he’d wrapped it, he hadn’t expected anyone to bring him back from this war. Not even Sam.
That thought didn’t make him hesitate the way widowing Sam did. Dean always knew he would die for the cause. He shut his eyes, bit the collar of his flannel between his teeth, and began to saw.
The pain burst up through the numb flesh like fireworks. Dean grunted as blood filled his vision, but he didn’t stop the harsh motion. The Mark pulsed with fury as Dean sawed into his arm. He tried to gauge through the pain if he was bleeding more or less than he should be, but that was a useless endeavor. He wasn’t stopping either way.
The saw freed fat from around his muscles, and Dean screamed for the first time. He could hear Sam yelling over the phone. His voice swirled around Dean’s head. Dean’s name joined the rhythm filling his ears, the Mark’s pulse against his own pounding heartbeat, the pain coming in waves against his brother’s terrified calls. Dean bore his weight down on the saw. He swore he could feel the muscle separating under the serrated edge. His arm split open into ugly meat. Dean’s suffocated blue fingers twitched at the end of it, but he couldn’t feel that, only watch them.
He hit bone faster than he thought he would. It resisted more than the rest of him, but Dean was going to break it off no matter what. His vision danced with black spots, grey at the edges and blurry in the middle. The white of his bones sticking through his cleaved muscle was the only thing he could focus on.
His own screams were in the chorus now. It didn’t feel like he was even making them anymore. His body was breaking apart. The only bits that still felt attached to him were the arm coming off and the one removing it. His legs were long gone, trapping him against the counter. His mouth wasn’t under his control anymore, and he could have been babbling anything to Sam without being aware of it. His bones cracked under the pressure of the saw, and he heard another of his own screams.
When he broke through the bone, he threw up. He wasn’t even aware of it until it was out of his throat, leaving only the burning taste of acid behind. He barely turned his head from his arm. Vomit splattered over his open wound and the tourniquet, burning against the wound. He could hear Sam say something, but it was all just noise now. A hum built up of everything Dean could still register. He might have yelled at Sam to shut up or might have only imagined doing so.
He rallied all the strength he had left. It wasn’t much, but supplemented with stubbornness, which he had in spades, it would get him through carving up the rest of his arm.
He didn’t notice the space between severing his tendons and lying on his back on the floor. He didn’t remember sawing through the last flaps of skin holding his arm together. He turned his head, but his arm was too far away, bent the wrong way. His hand reached back towards him, corpselike fingers curled stiffly against the floor. Dean stared at it. He raised his arm to get a better look at the saw wound, grasping weakly with his other hand for the saw but not finding it anywhere on the floor on his other side.
His upper arm moved. His hand stayed where it was until the sawed off stump below the tourniquet, sluggishly bleeding out, nudged against his fingers.
Dean laughed. He couldn’t feel the Mark anymore.
He couldn’t hear himself laughing either. He just felt the way his chest convulsed and his lips pulled wide across his face. He couldn’t hear anything at all. He blinked, and his hand seemed to blur. He blinked again, and all that was left was blotches of dim color across his vision.
He shut his eyes, and there was only darkness.
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#whumptober2023#no.10#body modification#altprompt5#supernatural#fic#gore#amputation#vomiting#abuse#suicide#spn#dean winchester#sam winchester#fanfiction
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Thinking about this more and I think there's this tendency in the fandom to conflate like, the vast interpersonal allowances Cas makes for Dean with like. Cas having no independence from Dean and that's. Simply not true?
Like yes, Cas doesn't call Dean out on his interpersonal bullshit NEARLY enough, which is why his departure in 15x03 can feel so gratifying, but he also has goals and an arc and a storyline that dovetail with Dean's while also being completely independent. In fact Cas spends the vast majority of his arc not only doing things independent of and away from Dean, but quite often at cross purposes with him or towards the same goal, but taking a radically different approach that Dean either dislikes or out and out opposes.
And I do think this is a function of Cas and Dean both being programmed to be soldiers, with Dean's programming overridden from the start by his love for his brother which he then extrapolates to basically anyone he gets to know for more than five minutes, while Cas's programming was broken by his own innate sense of right and wrong.
Stay with me here.
Dean didn't have to tell Cas that Zachariah's plan was wrong. Cas already knew it. He already felt it, deep down. He had questions. He had doubts. Dean gave him a push to listen to those doubts, but they existed long before Dean came along.
How do we know? Naomi. She's reset Cas countless times. And what is the context of that revelation? She cites horrific instances of old testament mass deaths, which Cas is sure he did not participate in. Because he's sure he has always known this was wrong. To which Naomi counters that he did. Because she made him. He rebelled against his orders when those orders involved something he innately felt was wrong, and she re-brainwashed him to make him comply. Eons before he ever met Dean.
Hell, this reveal retroactively implies that she also reset him in season 4, when he was going to rebel on his own, before Dean ever asked him to. And arguably reset him before he ever meets Dean face to face on earth, after he placed Dean in his grave.
Because Cas, left to his own devices, has a wider sense of compassion, of right and wrong, that he applies more or less consistently to the world. People, in general, deserve second chances. People, in general, deserve to be saved. So of course his loved ones do, too! His love of Dean, of Jack, of Sam...these are all intensified versions of his longstanding, pre-existing love for people, humanity.
Dean, on the other hand, has a very variable sense of right and wrong that is situational and heavily based on his relationships to the people involved. His love for humanity is more empathy-based than compassion-based. He protects people he sees his loved ones reflected in. His love of humanity is an expanded version of his love for his family.
(For the record, I'm not making any value judgments here on which approach is right or wrong. I think they both have limitations and pitfalls, which I'm about to get into.)
Which is why an argument Dean and Cas have over and over is the greater good vs. the personal good. It really starts in season 6, when Cas has his plan with Crowley to open Purgatory. His end goal is to defeat Raphael, who wants to restart the apocalypse, which would result in the deaths of over half the people on the planet. He is personally motivated, yes. He doesn't want Sam and especially Dean forced back into a fight they sacrificed so much to win. But he's also motivated by his greater sense of right and wrong, which is why Dean's personal pleas to stop for him fall flat. To Cas in season 6, the threat Raphael poses is certain, and global. The threat Purgatory poses is purely theoretical, largely interpersonal, and he sees no other option. It isn't just about Dean and what he wants. It's about the whole world at that point.
Another great example is the Mark of Cain in season 9. Dean takes the Mark to stop an imminent threat to his family without fully calculating (or perhaps understanding) the threat this course of action poses to the world. The world, in this instance, is what's theoretical. Faceless strangers he may or may not harm someday, versus immediate, certain danger to the people he knows and loves most. His end goal is just to stop Abaddon and Metatron, who mainly seek to take out the Winchester brothers. He is worried about the greater threats they both pose, of course, but his primary motivation is saving his family. Which is why Cas's entreat of "I'm the one who'll have to watch you murder the world" doesn't get through to him while "Dean...please" does.
So basically, you have two people with similar values but radically different approaches in how they apply those values consistently butting heads and checking each other for twelve years. The interpersonal latitude Cas gives Dean almost seems like a reaction to this. Their disagreements on this level almost always arise due to their differing approaches to their values, so Cas does what he feels is right and gives Dean a lot of space to express how pissed he is about it without recrimination. And to be fair, Dean gives as good as he gets in this regard (at least from his perspective). He routinely forgives Cas for actions he would find unforgivable from anyone else ("I'd stab 'em in the neck on principle," I believe is the way he phrased it), focusing far more on giving Cas latitude in exercising his values while interpersonally giving him what for on a regular basis.
(I'm not necessarily endorsing this or saying it's healthy, btw. I'm just saying this is what they do.)
So no...Cas is neither beholden to Dean for his sense of right and wrong nor dependent on him in any way. The latter of which drives Dean, who almost pathologically needs to be needed, crazy even as it's part of the reason Cas is such an exception to Dean's entire concept of how relationships work.
The thing is, Dean asked Cas to throw off his whole entire programming to do what he felt was right one time, and they agreed on what that was, and then somewhat to his dismay Cas just kept doing what he felt was right regardless of whether Dean agreed with him on that or not.
I think that's part of what's so compelling about them as a couple. In a lot of media, couples that aren't on the same page most or all of the time fall apart. And what this looks like in practice is one character becoming less of a character and being written to be as convenient as possible for the other.
But Cas keeps right on being an inconvenience and Dean, if anything, loves him more with every disagreement and, at the end of the day, there's a bedrock of understanding that they share that makes the constant leaving and coming back and disagreeing possible. Trust coexists with uncertainty between them in a way that is frequently heartbreaking but endlessly compelling.
And I dunno. I think that's really fucking lovely.
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Never say Never
For @make-me-imagine 5th blog anniversary event. The prompt I picked was "I can't stand the fact that I can never be with you."
Word Count: 1402
Warnings: smidge of cursing
You were laying across Dean's bed next to him watching whatever western he'd clicked on. You normally would've been paying attention to the television, your weekly movie nights were something you'd looked forward to but lately you started to wonder if it was something that meant as much to him as it did to you.
You'd known him and Sam the better part of your adult life. Hell you were twelve when you met them. Sam was the same age as you and Dean was a smart mouthed sixteen year old that thought he already knew it all until Bobby revealed you were a natural born witch being raised by your uncle who also a witch and a hunter. For years Dean avoided you at best until John went missing. He called you to go to Stanford with him in hopes Sam would be more willing to come along for the search if you were there.
The intention was to simply assist them in finding their dad then hit the road yourself. After Jess was killed Sam asked you to stick around so you started hunting with them more often. Eventually Dean started to trust you just as Sam did. You counted yourself as the first notch in Dean seeing that this life wasn't all white and black but shades of grey. Your powers came in handy at times and you fought for the boys just as hard as they fought for you.
The bond you had with Sam was unbreakable because both of you were the kids being dumped on Bobby, never feeling like you belonged. He was your best friend and you his. Dean however was a harder case to crack, yeah you were friends but the bond didn't form as strong until you ended up trapped in Purgatory with him. Nothing like a constant battle field to make you know each other inside and out. The weeks after making it back topside were the worse. The damn flashbacks drove the two of you together, there was nothing sexual but you would stay with each other wrapped up in your shared trauma offering comfort you could only find in each other.
Since then you could nearly read Dean's thoughts half the time only a glance having to be shared between the two of you. When had your feelings slipped past you into him sneaking his way into your heart? Was it when Sam nearly died from the trials? Could it have been the horror that followed his days of bearing the mark of Cain when it truly seemed like he would be lost to all of you?
Dean was impossible to not fall for. Physically he was gorgeous of course but besides that he was strong and caring and would risk his life to save someone without a second thought. He would fight with everything he had and loved with every ounce of his heart. You knew how he saw himself, a fuck up. When he looked in the mirror he saw every mistake he ever made. You'd give anything to let him see himself how you saw him.
Halfway through the movie Dean realized you weren't commenting on some of the ridiculous costumes or snatching any pizza. Hell your lemonade sat untouched. He turned his eyes away from the screen to glance over at you and realized you were curled up to his pillow laying tucked into his side.
He clicked the television off before nudging you slightly "Sweetheart, what's wrong?" You visibly startled before a soft smile slipped onto your face "Sorry Dean, guess my heads not really into this movie" "Yeah that bad of an excuse may work on Sammy but not me. I know ya better than that. You're looking worse than you did when I came back from having black eyes. Now what gives darling?"
You sat up slowly still clutching his pillow "That" he looked confused for a second "Me calling you darling?" You nodded the words slipping out before you could stop them "I can't stand the fact that I can never be with you."
His eyes widened and you felt your heart threaten to stop when you realized you'd just spilled your heart out "I'm sorry" you muttered standing to leave but damn him he was always the fastest human you knew. He grabbed you before you got to the door gently holding your wrists "Hold on now you can't say something like that then run on me"
You let him lead you back to the bed avoiding his eyes as you sat down next to him. "Can you explain what you mean?" You took a deep breath "You're Dean Winchester. The man whos saved the world more times than I can count. You're the best man I know. I'm just some witch. Hell I've almost made you be forced to kill another hunter way back when. I know you'll never see me like that and it's ok. I just hell Dean I never meant to fall for you please believe that, I would never risk our friendship"
You felt him move before his hand gripped yours gently "Look at me Darling" you slowly raised your eyes to meet his green ones "Can I talk now?" You nodded feeling your face warm from embarrassment "Are we ignoring how many times you've saved me? How many times you've saved Sam and countless others? There is no other person on this earth I trust the way I trust you. Yeah I nearly killed that asshole because he hurt you. I fell for you years ago but never wanted you to think you were just another woman to me. Besides Sam you are the most important person in my life. You're calling me the best man you know yet I'm a better man for just knowing you. I fell for you years ago but never knew how to say the words and having you in my life in any way was worth it to me"
"So what now?" You asked quietly and he smiled "Well I was thinking maybe I could kiss you then we could find a movie you wanna watch and take it from there?" "Even if it's the mummy?" You asked with a relieved laugh. "Even if it's the mummy. Now come here" He pulled you into his lap and you fell against his chest pulling a smile to his face "God you're beautiful" he whispered before brushing his lips against yours tentatively,deepening the kiss when you hooked your arms around his neck to pull him closer.
When you were forced apart by the need for air he chuckled "I'll watch the mummy a thousand times for you sweetheart"
@make-me-imagine
#meraswritingchallenge#merasanniversaryevent#spn fanfiction#supernatural fanfiction#dean winchester x reader#dean winchester fanfiction#dean winchester x female!reader
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Dean Winchester be like:
I hate myself because it’s what my father taught me to do. I hate myself because it’s a defense mechanism. I use sarcasm to cover up the fact that I believe I am worthless. I raised my brother into a good man, that’s the only good I’ve ever done. I’ve saved some people, they don’t say thank you, but that’s okay. I wish I could have been the man my father wanted me to be. I break everything I touch. All the people I love I end up killing or leaving me. I am broken. I don’t do romantic love, it’s asking for me to get my heart broken, more broken than it already is. I sold my soul to a demon so I could save my brother, because he’s the best thing I ever did, the only good thing. I’m afraid to go to Hell, but I pretend I’m not, because what’s the alternative?
Hell proved that I was the person I always knew I was, a bad person, willing to torture to get out of pain. I met an angel, he’s not like I thought. He’s a soldier, like me, he’s taking orders from a father he can’t see. He starts out as an ally, but he’s different than the others, they say he likes me. He’s awkward, he stands too close to me sometimes. I started the Apocalypse because I wasn’t strong enough. My brother is going down the wrong path, and I don’t know how to stop it. The angels tell me Lucifer has to rise, but the one that pulled me out of Hell disobeys to help me stop it. I think I should consider him a friend. Lucifer rises anyway.
The angel is on the run from Heaven, he’s a good guy, I like him a lot, more than I think I should. I don’t know what to do, if I say yes to Michael, we can save some people. Maybe I’ll get to know peace, maybe my father will be proud of me then. The angel and my brother are angry at me, but I’ve always been a coward, they just don’t know it. But they know me best, I can’t say yes to Michael if it means disappointing them.
My brother goes to the cage with Lucifer and Michael, the angel disappears, and I’m left to pick up the pieces, living a life I feel like I stole from somebody else. I always sleep with a gun and holy water under the bed, even though I know every entrance is secure. My brother comes back, but he’s different now, he’s not the same, I should have looked for him. I feel guilty. We found out his soul is gone, his soul, his soul. The angel is back, but he’s no real help. I kill myself to speak to Death, who brings back his soul in exchange for me playing Death, where I learn a few hard lessons.
I find out the angel has been working with our enemies. Why does it feel like my heart is broken when he won’t meet my eyes? I leave him to the demons, but not before one last look. I’m not sure why. The idiot, he ends up dying trying to get souls from Purgatory, desperate to win his war in Heaven. Why does everyone leave me? The Leviathan are out there, a new threat. At least I know how to kill, so I won’t have to think about the muddy trenchcoat in the trunk of my car. I lose the closest thing I have to a father with a bullet to the brain. I feel like I’m spinning out of control. My brother loses his mind. The angel comes back, he doesn’t recognize me, that hurts. When he does remember me, I tell him we need him, but I really mean that I do.
I get sent to Purgatory, I meet a vampire turned ally turned new best friend, but I won’t leave without the angel, I can’t leave without the angel. We find him, he was running from me, why does everyone run from me? We make it out of Purgatory, the angel gets left behind. It turns out my brother didn’t look for me. Why am I so dispensable? The vampire is the only one I can trust now. I dream about the angel, about the way I couldn’t save him. I feel like I can’t save anyone these days. I see the angel in the air around me, am I going crazy? But then he shows up behind me, why do I care so much about him? I don’t even care where he came from, as long as he’s here. My brother takes on trials, they start to hurt him. We find a place to call home. I’ve never had my own bedroom before. The angel is distant, I wish I could reach him. He doesn’t answer my prayers. He and I find the angel tablet, he hits me. I tell him I need him, never able to tell him that I think I might love him too. He snaps out of it then walks out of my life again. I wish I was lovable. I almost lose my brother to the trials, he has to know I can’t lose him, he’s all I’ve got. The angels fall, I wonder about my angel, if he’s alright.
My brother is dying, and I make a deal with an angel to save him. My angel says he’s a good guy, and I’m too desperate to vet him properly. I watch my angel, now a human, die in front of me, the angel in my brother saves him, it’s one of the only times I’ve ever put someone else over my brother. I feel guilty about that. I have to kick my angel out, it tears me in half to do it, but I have to protect my brother. I watch the angel from a gas station window, I try to find the courage to go see him. I use humor to hide how much I miss him. My brother finds out about the angel, which cost the life of a kid I was supposed to protect, he’s so angry at me. Well, I deserve it this time. I take the Mark of Cain to defeat Abaddon, it can’t be all that bad. I start to lose my grip on myself. My angel gives up an army for me, and it’s the closest I feel to being me in months. My brother and my angel try to stop it, but it’s too late. I die in my brother’s arms.
I wake up with black eyes. I don’t care about anyone, anything. There’s a tiny part of me that’s screaming to wake up, but I drown him out easily enough. My brother finds me, says he wants to cure me. I don’t want it, I don’t want to be me, not feeling is the best thing that’s ever happened to me. They do cure me though, my brother and my angel, and waking up from the blackness is like surfacing from deep water. For a while, I feel loved. But after what I did, I don’t feel like I deserve it. I’m still not me, and when my friend, who I loved like a sister is taken, I go off the deep end again. It’s too easy, but violence is all I know. The angel tries to stop me. I have him where I want him, a blade to the heart and this is all over. But I still can’t kill him, I still can’t kill the angel. Death tells me I have to kill my brother. I almost do it. But killing Death releases me, and I’m me again. Sometimes I still wish I wasn’t.
I have this connection to this Darkness. It scares the hell out of me. I wish I understood it, I wish I could stop it. Am I pulled towards the Darkness because I, myself, am darkness? Is it because I am, because I’ve always been bad? I lose the angel to Lucifer himself, how did I not notice until it was too late? Why would he leave me like this? Will I ever get him back? My head is foggy around the Darkness, but not when it comes to him. I just wish I could get through to him. Lucifer taunts me, my heart rips in half. We get the angel back, but nothing good can last in this life, can it? God himself returns, I have to sacrifice myself to stop the Darkness. I’ll do it, because of course I will, if I have an opportunity to do some good, I’ll take it. The Darkness doesn’t kill me. She thanks me.
My mother is alive. It’s everything I’ve always wanted. I have to learn fast that she’s not what I thought. That’s hard. Me and my brother end up in prison for trying to kill Lucifer, and we find out this girl is going to have his kid. How will we kill someone innocent? I can’t think about that, I’m a killer, I’ll kill if i have to. The angel kills a reaper to save me, but what will happen to him? We start looking for this kid, but do we even want to find it? The angel nearly dies for me, he tells me, my family he loves us. I wish I could tell him the same, but the words won’t work right in my brain, so I do what I always do, I look away. The angel finds the girl, but the kid inside her gets to him, and he runs away from me. Why does everyone run from me? We find them just in time to find a rift to another world, and my brother has to drag me away from the angel, who is going to sacrifice himself to kill Lucifer. He comes back, but before I can say the words I’ve been holding onto for so long, he dies in front of me, only this time, it’s real. My mom is taken from me too, and I’m left by the angel’s side, staring up at the sky, wondering why, why me?
I bury the angel, my brother insists we can’t kill the kid, even though it’s his fault my mom is gone and the angel is... I beg God to bring him back, please, bring him back. You owe me this, please bring him back. He doesn’t listen. I’m alone. We burn the angel, and I try to learn to live with regret and grief and crippling pain all at once. I hate the kid, this is his fault. I kill myself again to save some souls, but also because I want to die this time. I can’t take it anymore. Death tells me I have work to do, but how much more work can there be? How much more can I take? It’s like the Universe reads my mind, because my angel comes back, and it’s like the last few weeks haven’t happened. I still can’t say the words, but maybe this time I’ll get there. Maybe this time. We go to the other world, we save some people, I find my mom. I let another Michael from the other world possess me to defeat Lucifer, but then I can’t expel him. Before he shuts me in my memories, I am desperately afraid.
My brother and the angel find me in my own head, the snap me out of it. I should have known this bar was too good for me, I knew I didn’t deserve it. I shut Michael in there, but I know I won’t last long. I think I’m too weak to hold him, so I build a box designed to hold me forever. I dream about it, claw the sides of the wall until my nails are bloody, but if it’s my eternity or Michael’s rule? I’ll take the ocean every time. The angel will always try to save me, I still can’t say the words. The kid, my kid, he destroys Michael, but something is wrong, and I don;t realize until it’s too late. My mother is dead, at the hands of the kid, and I have never been angrier. I hate the kid again, I hate the angel too, I hate myself more. I pull a gun on the kid, but I still can’t pull the trigger. Sometimes I wish I could put it to my own head. God comes back, turns out he was the villain all along. Typical. He kills our kid. I can’t let myself feel.
The angel tries to convince me that we’re real. How can I believe that? Is everything I am just a story? Have I ever chosen anything? Does the angel really care about me? Do I really care about him? Another one of our friends dies. I blame the angel, I push him away, because I can’t look at him if I think what I feel for him might not be real. I meet up with someone I loved. He’s a monster now, I have to kill him. He dies holding me. I wish I was dead sometimes too. My brother is sick, he gets kidnapped by God. I’m spinning in circles. Me and the angel end up in Purgatory again. He gets taken from me. I’m so alone, so scared, I break down in the one place I could get lost in forever searching for the angel, I don’t want to leave him, please, don’t make me leave him. I have to keep looking, get back to the real world to save my brother. How will I choose? Thank god, or, whatever, I find the angel. I’ll tell him this time, but he stops me. He must know. He doesn’t want me, no one wants me. Why would they? Chuck has taken everything from me. I have to kill him, no matter the cost. The cost is gonna be our kid, raised from the dead by Death. I guess the one thing we have going for us is we don’t stay dead for long. I’m ready to let my kid die for my freedom. My brother stands in the way, I pull a gun on him. He talks me down, he’s the only one that can. I decide to take it out on Death, my pain, my anger, my rage. I take the angel and we find her, she chases us. Another trap. I realize that I’ve trapped us both. Why am I so worthless?
The angel looks at me. He smiles. He tells me how worthy I am, that I’m good, that I changed him. How can I tell him how he changed me. He tells me he’ll die for loving me. Then he shouldn’t, I’m not worth his life. Don’t leave me, please, I can’t lose you, you don’t know what it does it me when you leave me. He tells me he loves me. I try to tell him a fraction of the things I feel for him, but it’s too late. He’s taken before my eyes, and this time I know there’s no getting him back.
I’m left on the floor, unable to move.
This time I know, I’ll never let myself love again, because my heart is so shattered that it’s powdered, there’s no repairing it now. I’ve always been broken, but this time I’m not just broken: I’m destroyed.
#so uh yeah idk what this is#dean#spn#my writing#supernatural#dean winchester#destiel#im so sorry????? idk where this came from#I have never loved anyone the way I love him
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A Mother's Love (Dean x Wife!Reader)
Warnings: Language, fluff, major angst, implications of divorce, arguing, Dean being mean to Jack
Pairings: Dean x Wife!Reader
Characters: Dean, Jack, Sam, Reader, Cas (mentioned only)
Word count: 2.7k
You threw your bag down as you entered the bunker, exhausted from your last hunt. This was one of the rare cases where you worked alone.
Sometimes you needed the time to yourself, away from all the men. Sometimes you would go hunting with Jody and Claire, but even then, those two argued like cats and dogs.
"Y/N," Jack smiled as you entered the kitchen. "How was the hunt?"
"It was pretty good, actually." You grinned as you sat across from him. "I was chasing down this werewolf in Tennessee, and it was really strange. He'd kill one person, turn the next, and repeat that cycle."
"That's. . . Weird." He furrowed his eyebrows.
"That's what I said. Well," You continued on with the story of your hunt, watching as Jack's eyes widened in amazement and awe.
"Y/N?" Dean called your name, entering the kitchen. "Hey, sweetheart. I didn't know you were home?"
You stood up, pressing a kiss to his cheek. "Sorry, babe. I got sidetracked. I was just telling Jack about my trip." You smiled, looking over at the boy. You were concerned, as the smile fell from his face and he looked away from you and Dean. "You okay, kid?"
"Yeah," He nodded, not meeting your eye. "I'll give you two some space." He mumbled as he walked out of the kitchen.
"Does he seem off to you?" You asked Dean.
"Nah, he acts like he usually does. Squirrelly and weird."
"Says the squirrel himself." You rolled your eyes. "Did something happen while I was gone?"
Dean said nothing as he looked down, an obvious indicator that he was guilty of something. "Dean," You growled lowly. "Did you say something to Jack? Something that would upset him somehow?"
When Dean didn't give you an answer, you shook your head as you follow Jack to his room.
"Jack." You called out. He seemed to be lost in thought, as he didn't react to your words. "Jack!" You said louder, causing him to turn around. There was a tiny amount of fear in his eyes. If you didn't know him, it wouldn't have affected you.
"What's wrong?" You asked softly, resting your hand on his shoulder.
"Nothing." He spoke. "Why would anything be wrong?"
"Jack, I saw how you reacted when Dean came in. You looked like a kicked puppy. Don't tell me it's nothing, kiddo."
In the time you had known Jack, you had grown to care for him deeply. You had always wanted kids, but in this life, it wasn't possible. Well, it was, but you knew you didn't want your children to do what you do. So when Jack was born, you felt extremely happy because it felt like you finally had a child. Albeit, he did look twenty.
"Dean doesn't like me very much." He admitted.
"I'm sure that's not true. . ." You argued weakly. In all honesty, you didn't think Dean liked Jack either. It's not like he was abusive, but he did treat him differently than everyone else.
"But it is, Y/N."
"How do you know, Jack? With Dean, it takes him time to warm up to people. It took him months to actually trust me. He's a cautious person."
"Did he threaten you too?" Jack asked, genuinely curious. His head was tilted to the side, his honey blonde hair falling into his eyes. He had gotten that head tilt from Cas.
"Dean. . . Threatened you?" You whispered hoarsely.
"Yes," He nodded. "He told me if I hurt you or Sam, or anyone, that he would be the one to hunt me down and kill me."
Your mouth popped open in horror. You could never imagine your sweet, loveable, goofy Dean threatening Jack. "What else did he say, Jack? Did he say anything prior to this?"
"He said that he doesn't think that I can be saved. He said that even though you and Sam think that I can, that he doesn't."
"Jack, you don't need to be saved. There is no saving to do. You are a good kid. You would never do anything to intentionally hurt anyone. I'm so sorry. I should have been there." You sigh.
"He's not wrong, Y/N. I can't be saved. What if I turn out like my father, my real father."
You frowned as you cupped his face in your hands. "Jack, you are nothing, and I mean nothing, like Lucifer. You are just like your mother. You are sweet, caring, and you are empathetic. Just like Kelly."
"You really believe that?" He whispered, tears forming in his eyes.
"No, I don't believe it, Jack. I know it. You are nothing like Lucifer. If anything, you are much more like Castiel."
"Really?" He smiled.
"Yeah," You nodded. "You see, I don't know if you know this, but Cas does this little thing where he tilts his head to the side if he doesn't understand something or if he's perplexed. And I noticed that you do the same thing." Jack's smile widened as you removed your hands from his face. "And neither of you have any knowledge of pop culture. Even though Cas was here for a lot longer than you, he never understood a single reference any of us made. Even if it was something like Scooby Doo." You giggled, feeling your throat tightening at the thought of your dead friend. "And you two state the obvious a lot. Not in a bad way, more in a comedic way. It lightens the mood nearly every time. Cas would rarely smile. When I asked him why, he would say that the world was going to hell and he didn't have anything to smile about. But when he did smile, it would make everyone else smile with him. The same goes for you. Just seeing that little toothy grin of yours makes me smile. I mean hell, you two even look a lot alike."
"Could you tell me more about him?" Jack asked.
"Of course, but I have something to take care of first. Then you and I will cuddle up and watch a movie and I'll tell you everything you want to know about Cas, okay?"
"Yeah, I'd like that." He spoke. "Before you go, could I ask you something?" You nodded. "If I were to have a mother figure, and I called her mom, do you think my mother would be upset?"
"No, sweetheart, I don't think she would be upset. I think that she would be happy that there's someone down here taking care of you and you feel comfortable enough to call them mom." You said, completely oblivious as to what Jack was suggesting.
"Then. . . Could I call you mom?"
You felt the air leave your lungs as his words hit you like a truck. Jack watched as tears welled up in your eyes. Jack was horrified; he had never meant to make you cry. "Yo-you want to call me m-mom?" You stammer.
"If you're not comfortable with it I understand. I'm sorry, Y/N, I-"
You cut him off with a tight embrace. "Of course you can call me mom." You whisper, squeezing the boy tightly.
"Why are you crying?" He questioned.
"These are happy tears, Jack. I'm not upset. It's just. . . I never thought that I would have children, but then you came along, and you gave me what I wanted. You gave me a chance to be a mother."
"Thank you for being here for me, mom."
You gave Jack a huge smile as you pulled away. "Okay," You said, putting a hand on his arm. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to deal with my ass of a husband."
---
"Dean Winchester," You boomed, roaming around the bunker in search for your husband.
"Ooooh, you're in trouble." You hear Sam snicker.
"But I didn't do anything. Wait, what day is it?" Dean asked frantically.
"April ninth." Sam quipped.
"Okay, no birthday, no anniversary, so there's that."
You entered The Dean Cave, as Dean called it, seeing red. "What the hell, Winchester." You growled. "Sam, out. Now."
"You don't have to tell me twice." Sam said, grabbing his bowl of popcorn and walking out of the room.
"Yes, darling, sweetheart, love of my life. What can I do for you?" Dean spoke sweetly, giving you those stupid, green doe eyes.
"Jack told me." You said simply. "He told me what you said to him. That if it comes down to killing him, that you would be the one to do it. That there was no saving him."
"Y/N, you have to understand where I'm coming from." He tried to reason with you. "You should have seen him. He was stabbing himself with a knife! And it closed up like it was nothing! It's not normal. He's not normal."
"And?! None of us are normal, Dean. We've all died and came back to life. Sam didn't have a soul, he was hooked on demon blood, yet you were still there for him. You still believed in him. You died and became a demon, you bore the Mark of Cain and had a thing for God's friggin sister! And I still loved you through it. I have been brainwashed and manipulated into hurting all of you, and you still forgave me! Cas betrayed us, and we were still there for him. None of us are fucking normal! So what the hell, Dean? You're holding a grudge against Jack just because of who his dad is?"
"His father is Lucifer, Y/N!"
"Well that's stating the goddamn obvious!" You yelled.
"He could turn on us at any moment! We don't know this kid. We don't know what he can do."
"So we learn, Dean! We should help him figure out his way. Guide him in the right direction. Show him what a true, loving family looks like!"
"We are not his family, Y/N! And he's not our family. He never will be." Dean argued.
You flinched back, glaring at Dean. "How dare you! You son of a bitch! Whether you believe it or not, Jack is family. To me and to Sam. We care about him and love him!"
"He doesn't even know what love means!"
"Yes, he does! Because he feels things, Dean. He cares. He cares about all of us, including you. You know, he asked me if he could call me mom today. Did you know that? He trusts me and cares for me so much that he sees me as a mother figure."
"He's got you brainwashed, Y/N! Can't you see that?!"
"If he looked like his actual age, would you be acting like this?"
"What kind of question is that." He scoffed.
"If Jack looked four months old instead of twenty, would you still be treating him like this?" You asked steadily. Dean remained silent. "See! He is four months old, no matter how old he looks, he's still a baby."
"So, what, you want me to change his diaper or some shit?"
"No! I want you to treat him like a human being!" You yelled.
"But he's not human!"
You and Dean stood your ground, neither of you letting up. "Fine. I'm leaving then. And I'm taking Jack with me."
"No, you're not."
"Fucking watch me, Dean. I can't even look at you right now. Because you are not the man I married. That man was compassionate and caring. This one isn't. And until he comes back, I'm staying away." You cried.
Before Dean could get another word out, you left the den. You noticed that Sam was standing in the hallway, giving you a saddened look. "You're really leaving?"
"I'm sorry, Sam." You sobbed. "But I can't be around him right now. And I don't think Jack should be either. We're going to my parents house for a while. And until he gets his shit together, I'm not coming back.
"I know. I don't understand why Dean is acting like this." He mumbled.
"I don't either. It's so unlike him." You agreed.
"So what are you going to tell Jack?"
"Just that we're going to take a little road trip and visit my parents. I don't know, Sam, this whole thing is so strange to me. But I know have to go."
Sam frowned as he pulled you into a hug. "I'm really going to miss you. But you do what you need to do. And if you ever need anything, you call me, okay? I don't care what time of day it is, call me."
"I will." You squeeze Sam tightly. "Thank you for being an amazing brother and best friend." You pulled away, teary eyed as you parted from your brother in law. "I hope to be back soon."
You softly knocked on Jack's door before entering. "Hey, Jack." You smiled.
"Mom!" He said excitedly. "Are we going to watch movies now?"
"Actually, there's been a change of plans. Me and you are going on a road trip to visit my parents."
"Really? Are Sam and Dean coming with us?"
You swallowed hard, a lump forming in your throat. "No, actually. This is a trip just for us. Sam and Dean wanted to stay here just in case they find a case or something that can get Mary back from apocalypse world. So I'm going to help you pack and then we can get on the road."
---
You had sent Jack to your car, having him put everything in the trunk while you finished up things in the bunker. The last thing you grabbed was a machete that belonged to your father before he gave it to you.
"Don't go." A voice whispered. You turned to see Dean, who looked like he had been crying. "Please don't leave."
You swallowed hard, feeling tears rush to your eyes once more. "Will you accept Jack as family?"
"Y/N-" Dean said, exasperated. "He can stayed here but he's not family."
"That's not good enough, Dean. Because I know how you act around people you don't trust."
"You can't force me to trust him." Dean scoffed.
"That's not what I want. I want you to get to know him. I want you to try."
"Y/N. . . I just. . . I can't."
"I think. . . I think we need time apart." You mumbled.
"Y/N, please –"
"Only for a little bit." You assured him. "They say that absence makes the heart grow fonder, after all." You gave him a sad smile, trying to control your tears.
You turned to leave before Dean's voice stopped you. "If you leave, then we're over. That's it. Don't bother coming home."
You sighed as you looked back at Dean. You cupped his face in your hands and gave him a slow, sensual kiss. You could feel salty tears on your lips as you memorized how Dean's mouth felt against yours. It was warm and soft. You could taste the remnants whiskey on his breath.
You pulled away slightly, resting your forehead on Dean's. You felt tears streaming down your face as you looked the man you had grown to love over the past ten years. You had been through hell and back, literally. You had lost each other, fell out of love and back in love.
"This isn't goodbye, Dean." You whimpered. "I swear it isn't. I love you with every part of my soul. I'm not choosing Jack over you, okay? I just need time. I need you to wait for me."
"That's all I've ever done, Y/N." Dean shook his head. "I waited on you when you were in relationships, when you were heartbroken, when your sister died, I waited on you to love me back. I'm tired of waiting. I will always love you, and you'll always be with me. You've changed me, and I'm so thankful for it. You've made me a better man. But I can't. . . I can't keep doing this, Y/N." He whispered as he slipped off his wedding band. "This is goodbye." He set the ring in your hand, curling your fingers around it. "Goodbye, sweetheart." He gave you one final kiss. But this one was rough and full of passion. It really was goodbye.
"Dean, please." You cried. He pressed a swift kiss to the crown of your head before leaving you standing alone in the library. Sobs racked through your body as you clutched Dean's ring to your chest. "Please come back." You whispered.
You wiped your face of tears and stuck Dean's ring in your pocket. There would be time for tears later. Right now you just needed to get out of the bunker. As you looked around the library, you realized you had never felt this alone.
#dean winchester#dean winchester x reader#dean x reader#dean winchester imagine#dean winchester x wife!reader#supernatural#supernatural fluff#supernatural angst#jack kline#sam winchester#castiel#season 12#dean winchester angst
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The first Valentines Day they spent together wasn’t great. Taking out a horseman of the apocalypse and consuming an obscene amount of red meat wasn’t exactly a great start for a whirlwind romance. But Dean still remembers the butterflies he got in his stomach when Cas stood too close, or held his gaze for slightly too long.
The Valentines Day’s that came after that were mostly painful, or just another day that Dean wanted to forget:
- Handing Lisa a crumpled gas station valentines day card and a bunch of flowers that had already seen better days.
- Drowning in grief at the loss of Cas and Bobby.
- Hiding in the dark of Purgatory, trading rough hand jobs with Benny, and sending Cas tearful prayers, wishing he’d come back.
- Comforting a scared girl being chased by Hellhounds, wishing his angel would answer his prayers yet again.
- He doesn’t recall specific days whilst he had the mark of Cain.
He remembers the valentines day whilst under the pull of Amara, pining for something both frightening and unnatural, knowing deep down he was longing for something else, something that he thought he could never have.
The valentines day the year after reuniting Amara and Chuck, he had only been out of solitary confinement a few weeks, Cas was there, in the Bunker with him. But he was stubborn and angry at Cas for putting himself in danger. Dean had been giving him the silent treatment the whole time, but God, does he remember wishing Cas would come to him. Cas never did.
So much had happened in the year that followed that one. Cas had died, and returned to him, they had found Jack, and lost him to an alternate world. Even with all that had happened, Valentine Day that year was one of his favourites in recent memory. Dean had shyly invitied Cas for a movie marathon in his room. They had put on a Scooby Doo episode whilst making popcorn, and Cas had teased him for his “ascot phase” that had lasted only a few weeks. Dean still thinks he looked awesome though. They had curled up on Dean’s bed, eating popcorn and watching old horror movies. Dean had fallen asleep on Cas’s shoulder, and woke up on the morning of February 15th with his arms wrapped around Cas’s waist, and his face buried in his side. They were both smiling that morning, but neither had mentioned it again. Dean wishes they had.
The following year things had gone wrong again. Dean was too preoccupied trying to keep Michael at bay in his mind to even think about Valentines Day.
Last year on Valentines Day he was full of rage. Still hurting over all the crap that had happened. Chuck controlling their lives, being mad at Cas, Cas leaving and only returning to help the fight. He was terrified that Cas was just another part of Chuck’s story, another way to manipulate him. But Cas turned out to be one of the only things in the universe that Chuck wasn’t able to control. The one thing Dean had wanted most was the only thing that was truly real in his entire life. The thought still took his breath away. He wished he had known that at the time.
This Valentines Day, Dean was feeling high on happiness and love. Another year where too much had happened, but Dean and Cas decided that they had wasted enough time. Too many years had passed where they couldn’t be together, now they were finally free, finally able to make their own story, and they had chosen each other.
Just over three months ago Cas had confessed his love, and been ripped away from Dean once again before he had even had a chance to process what had happened. Defeating Chuck, and finally freeing themselves from his story had come at a terrible price, but luckily Dean’s adopted son was God now, and this time the deus ex machina was just what he needed.
Dean had wasted no time in finally letting his heart speak. Sobbing confessions of everlasting love into Cas’s lips, his neck, his cheeks, his chest. It had all happened pretty quickly after that. Jack had fixed everything, and Dean and Sam could finally retire.
The wedding wasn’t even their idea. Sam had blurted it out one day that they should hold some sort of ceremony as a final fuck you to all the forces of Heaven and Hell and beyond that had tried to separate them over the years. From the most powerful Gods, right down to the nasty little men in expensive suits who didn’t appreciate their love for one another. Eventually Dean had whispered the words to Cas one night, whilst they were still naked, sweaty, and wrapped around each other, gasping for breath. Marry Me just slipped off his tongue, and had got him a tearful yes and another four orgasms before the night was over.
So the valentines day “fuck you” ceremony became “Dean and Cas’s wedding day” and here they were. Exchanging vowels in front of their whole family. Even Crowley miraculously showed up which put Dean on edge for all of 10 minutes before the former King of Hell smiled and raised a fruity cocktail in his direction.
Their first dance was to “All My Love” by Led Zeppelin. Because of course it was. In the dim lights of the dance floor, pressed close to Castiel’s solid form, cheek brushing cheek, breathing in the scent of him, Dean was in the only Heaven that mattered. Right here on Earth. Real Heaven could wait until he was ready to go, which wouldn’t happen until he was old and wrinkly and his hair was grey (but still fabulous and not at all looking like a party city wig).
Once the stragglers had finally left the reception, or past out in the corner, Dean and Cas slipped away to the wedding suite, and drunkenly made love until long after midnight. It was by far, the best day of Dean’s life, let along the best Valentines Day of the past 12 years.
It’s the morning of the 15th February. Dean is lying in bed, on his back, with his new husband wrapped around him like an octopus. He thinks of all the valentines days of the past 12 years, and then forgets them, and thinks of the ones to come.
Next year he will spend the entire day in bed with his husband. Maybe he’ll get up long enough to make pancakes to bring Cas breakfast in bed. Maybe he’ll slip on some anniversary/valentines day panties. He thinks Cas may be into that.
In five years time he’ll spend their anniversary/Valentines day in their home by a beach - the one he plans to build himself. They’ll sit under the stars and listen to the ocean crash into the shore, wrapped in a huge blanket and whisper sweet nothings into each others ears.
In twenty years time, they’ll celebrate with their family. Perhaps he’ll throw Cas a party. He can picture Jack and Claire grown up with their own families, and Sam and Eileen with their own children, also grown by that point, and ready to move on to college and beyond. He sees a future full of love, and happiness, and peace. A future he has chosen for himself. A future where he is truly free to live the life he wants.
In the end, it doesn’t matter if they make anniversary/valentines day plans in the future or not, so long as they are together, so long as he gets this. So long as Cas remains in his arms. So long as he gets to kiss his husbands handsome face and see the love and happiness in his eyes. So long as from now on, nothing, not Darkness, Hell, Heaven, or even Death can separate them. After all, past experience has proven that they never succeeded before. Dean and Cas will always find their way back to each other.
#destiel#deancas#destiel wedding#deancas wedding#happy valentines day destiel#destiel fic#destiel valentines day fic#this is canon okay#my fic
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Even When You Hide
Happy @starrynightdeancas celebration day to @firefly124! I got really busy over the last couple of weeks, so its not as good as I wanted it to be for you, but I hope you like it anyways. (also I had to abandon my sketches and normal art style today due to technical difficulties, so the art is a bit rubbish, sorry, if i get round to finishing the other one in my normal style when i get home to my computers, I will send it your way) BUT ANYWAYS I hope you love it (the fic not the art, hides) and I think Sophie is the dopest for putting this whole thing together.
Pairing: Dean Winchester x Castiel
Tropes: Hurt/Comfort, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, First Kiss
Based: Somewhere after 10.03, when Crowley give Cas grace and Dean is cured of Demon-ness, and 10.18, when Cas gets his grace back. I did not mention the Mark of Cain though.
Song: I See You - Missio
Word count: 2.2K
I see you when you're down And depressed, just a mess I see you when you cry When you're shy When you want to die I see you when you smile It takes a while At least you're here I see you
It had been 25 minutes since Dean had sent Cas to pick out the paint for his room. He put down all the sheets and lined the sockets and skirting boards with tape and was now sitting at the foot of the bed, tapping his foot to a silent beat.
Dean hadn’t known what to get the angel from the store so there were currently 12 pots of paint, all different colours, sitting on shelves in the garage. He chewed on the inside of his cheek absentmindedly, picturing the scrunch of Cas’ eyebrows and the tilt of Cas’ head as he scowled at the cans.
‘Dean. What does it matter if the room is winter blue or baby blue?’ Dean could almost hear him ask it - the gravel of Cas’ voice rumbled in the back of his mind. Dean shook his head, smiling, and headed to see what the hold-up was.
What he found was a mess.
“Fuck. Shit!” Pots of paint were scattered across the room. Most were broken open, stripes of paint led away from a large metal cabinet that had toppled over onto the Impala and cast the tins in all directions.
“Cas!”
Dean ran forward, holding his breath. The cabinet had smashed right through Baby’s windshield, fracture lines spanned what was left leaving chunks of glass suspended in the laminated frame. The bonnet had been completely crushed, practically folded in half, and the corners had torn into the paintwork. Dean would be seething except he couldn’t breathe. He threw his weight behind his shoulder, forcing it under the shelves and straining until black dots danced in his vision.
“Cas!” Dean collapsed, his efforts futile. “Cas! Where the hell are you?!”
And then he heard it – the quick and broken, but quiet sobs of an angel. Dean whirled around o fast his neck cracked and then he crawled, actually crawled on his hands and knees, towards the sound.
Behind the impala, Cas was perched on the balls of his feet with his trench coat pooling around him. Dean had never seen him cry before, not like this. There was a streak of paint that ran from just under his left eye to the corner of his mouth. Where his tear tracks converged with it, the drops turned blue and fell to the ground like grace. Dean watched, transfixed for a moment, before scrambling closer.
“Cas.” Dean’s voice louder than he meant it, startled Cas out of his fugue state. His hands, which had been moving, stilled instantly as he looked back at Dean with wide shiny eyes.
“I don’t want to go, Dean.” The cracks in Cas’ voice tugged at Dean’s soul. He didn’t understand.
Dean shook his head. “What?”
Cas’s eyes only grew larger as the hunter reached out, “Dean, please don’t make me go.” His arm hung in the air, terrified of doing the wrong thing. He knew Cas couldn’t fly anymore but it had never stopped feeling as though their conversations were timed, except Dean couldn’t see the numbers on the clock. He was always waiting for Cas to vanish. “I want to stay.”
Bile rose in the back of Dean’s throat and his hand dropped like dead weight between them as he realised what Cas was saying, what he was thinking. He thought back to months before. ‘You can’t stay.’ He’d said, the same bile rising in his throat as now. He looked at Cas in his human clothes, that goddamn hoodie., and watched as Cas’ heart broke. Watched as the hurt played openly on his features, defences down. And then, he’d looked away. Dean remembers looking anywhere but into his best friend’s eyes, knowing that if he did his resolve would surely crumble. Now, all he wanted was for Cas to look at him, but the angel had gone from a deer in the headlights to refusing to lift his head higher than his shoulders.
“I can fix it, I promise.” Cas’s hands started moving again. His fingers shook as he tried to slot several pieces of broken glass back together. Small cuts littered his palms, bleeding freely as Cas worked.
“Cas. Cas, why-” Dean swallowed around the lump of panic still tuck in his throat, “Why aren’t you healing? Is it the grace? Is it failing?” His hands had found there way between them again. They hovered uselessly over Cas’ own. Cas was shaking his head, but Dean wasn’t sure if it was in answer to his question.
“Cas?” Dean didn’t know what to do, until he did. Taking a shaky breath, he allowed his panic to consume him for one second more before he tabled it.
“Cas,” His voice was gentle but solid, “Cas, stop it. Please,” - Dean stilled Cas’ hands with his own. He turned them palm up and, careful not to catch any of the cuts, unfurled the angel’s trembling fingers with is thumb – “Just stop.”
Cas was still refusing to meet his eyes, but he’d stopped shaking his head. He stared down at the pieces of glass and Dean followed his gaze. He recognised them as the broken remains of a small glass statue of an angel. Sammy had presented the thing to a few years ago after he’d nabbed it from some rogue crossroad demon’s second-hand shop to bully Dean with. ‘A guardian angel to save me from your moping when Cas is away,’ Sam had said, and Dean had shoved it deep down inside Baby’s trunk. That was until they moved into the bunker and Dean had felt some strange compulsion to place the glass angel atop the recently toppled shelves. Cas had been there, tilting his head at him. ‘Present from Sam,’ He’d practically growled before running away.
“Hey,” One of Dean’s hands left Cas’ in favour of poking him gently in the cheek. Cas jerked backwards slightly, finally meeting Dean’s eyes. He was still crying but less so. Dean nodded, “I need you to listen to me. You. Are. Not. Going. Anywhere. Ever. Again.” He waved his free hand at the mess around him. “All this, none of it matters,” Dean moved his other thumb in circles, steeling himself. This moment is what all his years watching chick flicks in secrecy had been preparing him for. “You, Cas, are what matters. To me.”
Dean held his breath for one, two, three seconds. Cas hiccoughed, blinking one, two, three times as the last of his tears fell from his cheeks.
“Why aren’t you healing?” Dean whispered into the space between them, a little afraid of anything louder.
“I didn’t want to waste m…” Cas looked lost, “It.” Dean waited.
“When Metatron took my grace from me, he left me human. Except I’m not human. Jimmy though, Jimmy was human, fragile. Without my powers, I’m,” Cas struggled with his words, he looked away. “I’m a baby in a trench coat.” Fuck. “I am nothing. And I can’t go back to that. I can’t keep steeling my kin’s grace from them, reducing them as I have been reduced. I can’t.” He dropped his head to his chest once more. “But I also don’t want to die.
“Castiel.” Dean swerved back into Cas’ eyeline as he spoke, “You are not nothing,” Cas stared at him, not believing.
“You are not human. You’re not Jimmy. But you’re not your grace either.” Dean was going to make him understand how wrong he’d been sitting in Eve’s diner. “You’re not your vessel and you’re not your powers. When I look at you-” The hunter swallowed, “When I look at you, I just see… you. I see you, Cas.”
He looked down at their hands, feeling dizzy. He couldn’t believe how mushy he was being or how much he didn’t mind. He felt like Colin Firth. “As for the rest of it, we’ll figure it out. We always do. The grace situation… Well,” Dean smiled, small. “We’ll make it up as we go.” Dean lifted Cas’s hands to his lips and pressed a kiss into a single cut. After a moment, grace began to shine beneath the skin and the wounds pulled themselves closed. Beaming now, he leant back and ran his thumb over the soft new skin, turning their hands so their finger interlocked.
“Dean, I-”
“I made a mistake,” Dean interrupted, “I have made so many mistakes. But, kicking you out like has to be one of the worst. No explanation, no assistance, no nothing. It’s the wrongest I’ve ever been in my life. Gadreel gave me an ultimatum but that’s not an excuse. Doesn’t even come close to justifying what I did. I should’ve told you what was going on. Maybe if I had tried, for even a second, to communicate, we could have avoided a lot of pain. I should’ve – I should’ve done a lot. But I didn’t, and that wasn’t good enough.’
“Dean, it’s okay.”
“No, no it’s not.” Dean broke eye contact then.
“Okay, well” Cas squeezed his hands, “I forgive you then. How’s that?”
Dean huffed out half a laugh. His next words caught in throat as he looked back at Cas. He was so close to him. Dean supposed he always was. Dean’s eyes caught on Cas’ mouth where he had worried at his bottom lip. It was red and sore and wasn’t healing. Before Dean knew what he was doing, he was tipping forward, eye slipping shut. When they met in the middle, he barely felt it. He touched his lips to Cas’ like he had to his hands, his heart pounding against the inside of his ribcage. Dean didn’t realise he hadn’t been breathing until Cas’s lips moved against his own and he gasped for air. He leant against Cas’s forehead breathing far too heavily for such a chaste moment. They sat there just breathing in each other’s air for one, two, three seconds. Then Dean surged forwards, pushing of his feet so he was kneeling up over Cas. He dropped the angel’s hands in favour of holding his head in his own, pressing desperate kiss after desperate kiss to Cas’s mouth. Cas leant backwards under him as they kissed, moulding to fit the curve of his body. His dropped hands had twisted their way into Dean’s flannel, pulling him closer.
As Dean’s lungs screamed for breath, he pulled slowly away. Cas’ head dropped to rest against his sternum and Dean allowed himself to bury his face in his hair. His hands had settled at the base of Cas’ neck and began tracing nonsensical patterns into the skin there.
“C’mon,” He leant back and pulled Cas with him. Leading him by hand past the impala and a few scattered paint cans. He stopped by one - one of the only ones not broken open - and leant down to pick it up. ‘Dusty Cyan’. Perfect. He tucked it under his arm, and flashed Cas a smile.
I'm alone with you You're alone with me What a mess you've made of everything
I'm alone with you You're alone with me And I'm hoping that you will see yourself Like I see you
The next day found them huddled close together leaning over Baby as Dean taught Castiel how to hammer dents out metal without causing more damage and replace a windshield.
“D’you want to know something?” Dean cracked open his beer. Cas hummed from where he was bent over working a dent out of the open bonnet. He was wearing one of Dean’s ratty old Bon Jovi shirts, damp with sweat and motor oil and chewing on his lip distractedly – and distractingly. “Sammy got me that angel to tease me about you.”
Cas looked up then, “About me?”
“Yeah.” The hunter coughed, wondering what had possessed him to open his mouth and start yet another chick flick. Maybe he should be worried about how much of a sap he was becoming. It was Cas’ fault, obviously. “Cuz I always complain when you’re gone.”
Cas turned around and leant back on Baby, his shoulder brushed Dean’s. “You may want to begin coming up with some alternate topics of conversation.”
Dean laughed, “You think so?”
“I have been reliably informed that I’m not going anywhere.” Cas looked at him. “Ever. Again.”
Dean shoved his shoulder, smiling wide when Cas shoved back pressing him back into the Impala’s frame and leaning into his space.
“It’s why I put it up there in the first place instead of shoving in the back of some cupboard.” He poked Cas in the ribs. “Because it reminded me of you.”
“Me.” Cas echoed.
“You,” Dean smirked, “Dumbass.”
Cas growled and silenced him with a kiss for the ages. Dean let himself be taken over by the angel, surrendering the kiss to him and just basking in the feeling of Cas pressed up against him. He didn’t need some glass statue, he already had his guardian angel exactly where he wanted him, and he had proved to be far from fragile.
I see you in the dark At the dawn of something new I see you
#dean winchester#castiel#destiel#hurt/comfort#cas is hurting#dean is there#i hope this wasn't too angsty and had enough comfort in there for you#fanfic#kat scribbles#literally in this case#userstarry#writing challenge#mentions of death#feelings of worthlessness#baby is also there haha#fuck#not literally in this case#first kiss#starrynightdeancas gift exchange
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So technically, this is a follow up to This Piece, and since we were talking about Zander caretaking Cain the other day,,,,, yeah. I didn’t want to write the actual punishment part so instead it’s mostly aftermath. This takes place several years in the past so Zander would be 18 here and Cain would be 20.
CW: Implied child abuse, whipping, mentions of blood, Charles Whitaker deserves his own warning
***
Zander stared at the scene before him, so confused he almost felt numb to the situation. Cain was kneeling a few feet away from him, hunched over and trembling. His back was to Zander and as much as he wanted to look away he just couldn’t.
His back was covered in long, bleeding lash marks from a whip, fifteen of them to be exact. From the corner of his eye he could see Cain’s father putting the whip he’d used away. The fresh injuries weren’t the only thing though, there were scars, so many of them that were obviously from the same injuries in the past. Zander felt sick with guilt though, all of this was because Cain gave him food, all of this was his fault.
Cain’s father ordered him to “do something about that mutt” before he left the room, leaving the two young men alone. They were silent for a long time, though Zander could hear the cries Cain tried to muffle with his hand. After a while he realized he wasn’t going to get up on his own, and finally, Zander got to his feet, shaking as he approached him.
“Hey… hey, you’re bleeding a lot, you… you need help…” He said hesitantly.
“Fuck off!” Cain hissed, glaring at him through the tears in his eyes. For once Zander tried not to get irritated.
“Now isn’t a time for you to be stubborn, you need to get this taken care of.” He said, reaching for him to help him up but Cain violently jerked away from him.
“Don’t touch me!” He snapped. “Don’t… don’t touch me…” He said again, struggling to get to his feet. He was swaying though, he was visibly dizzy and unsteady, and Zander had to catch him before he collapsed. Cain didn’t have the strength to pull away this time, and knowing he really didn’t have any other choice, Zander went ahead and picked him up, ignoring the fact he’d get blood on him as he carried him back to his cell, the door had been left open. He would’ve taken him to his own room but he didn’t know if that would cause him more pain and he knew his room already had the supplies he needed.
He carefully sat him down in the bathroom and Cain ended up on his knees again, staying silent while Zander got ready to clean the blood off his back. He tensed up when Zander first touched him, almost as if expecting to be hurt again. He stayed that way the entire time Zander wiped away the blood, it was odd behavior he’d never seen from Cain but at the same time, he couldn’t blame him at all for the way he was acting. He didn’t even know what to say to him so he kept his mouth shut for now. Once the blood was cleaned up he started on disinfecting the wounds, but the second he touched him Cain jerked away again, whipping around to face him.
“What the fuck- that fucking hurts!” He snapped.
“If it stings that means it’s working.” He said bluntly, grabbing him by the shoulder and forcing him to turn around again.
“This is fucking ridiculous, I can’t believe my fucking dog has to take care of me…” He muttered angrily.
“Would you rather be doing this yourself?” He asked, and Cain fell silent again, allowing Zander to continue to work. “I’m… I’m sorry this happened… I should’ve stopped him.”
“There’s nothing you could’ve done.” Cain shrugged. “You would’ve only gotten the both of us whipped, and then we’d both be fucked.”
“Still… I don’t know, I’m just… I’m sorry…”
“Stop saying that. I don’t need to hear it from you and it doesn’t matter, it’s not as if it’s the first time he’s done it.”
“That’s horrible…” He murmured, a scowl on his face just thinking about it. “That fucking bastard… I just- I can’t believe he’d do this to you, ever, much less before.”
“You’re being far too generous to my father if you genuinely believe he’s ever been above that.” Cain snickered. “He’s not known to be merciful or have, you know, morals.”
“I know, I know.” He muttered. “He’s a fucking monster, that’s what he is.”
“You’re not wrong about that.” Cain sighed. He cooperated with Zander so he was able to bandage him up, finally finished with everything. He cleaned up while Cain sat there, silent for a long time before he very softly said, “I don’t want to go…” Zander considered reminding him that it’s not like he could make him leave, Cain could do whatever he wanted, he’d never considered Zander’s opinion before, but at the same time it almost hurt to see how sad and dejected he looked.
“You don’t have to…” He told him. He stayed on the floor with him, sitting silently as he waited to see if Cain even wanted to talk. Cain kept his knees pulled up to his chest, wrapping his arms around them. He would occasionally sniffle or reach up to wipe away a tear. Zander had never seen him cry before now, and he didn’t feel any sense of vindication like he always thought he would. Cain was horrible, but this situation was more horrible, his father was more horrible. He’d seen him hit Cain before, sure, but he truly never thought he’d torture him.
He didn’t think it was possible, but he was finally realizing Charles Whitaker was far more evil than he’d initially thought.
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Friday Feature: July 16, 2021
Welcome to the Friday Feature, where every Friday I feature a different Fanfic Writer’s blog. This week’s Feature Blog is:
Link to Masterlist
About the Author:
Hello everyone! My name is Mert and I go by superfanficnatural on Tumblr. I started out writing right about when quarantine began and while I’ve been mostly on and off for a few months, I still love everyone that I have met on this amazing site! I write both male and female reader since I feel comfortable writing both and I write for a multitude of fandoms (just haven’t been able to post any other fandom than SPN aside from a few one shots). Spanning from random video game characters, to real people, to fictional characters, you can see my thirst goes far and wide haha.
I love it when people who read my stuff or even just people I haven’t interacted with send me a message so I can meet new people so please, don’t be shy and reach out!
Author’s Fave Personal Fics:
The Boy/Girl Who Cried Wolf
Summary: A wolf hunt gone wrong results in an investigation. When things begin to not add up, will you be the girl/boy who cried wolf?
Why the author likes this fic:
This fic is actually my all time favorite from what I have written and if you ask my friends I constantly say I don’t like my writing so this should stand out lol. I spent hours carefully crafting this fic and I really wanted a psychological thriller. It’s one of my favorite genres and I always love to be thrown off by plot twists and the like so if you’re the same, I hope you’ll enjoy this fic! This is a gender neutral fic so anyone can enjoy!
You Say
Summary: Based on the song, You Say by Lauren Daigle
Why the author likes this fic:
This fic was either my second or third attempt at angst so it will always hold a place close to my heart. Based off of the reactions that it got as well, it’s helped me realize that it’s actually pretty angsty! This is a female reader for those of you who would either like or dislike that. (Still kinda want to go back and rewrite it though *cough* Brandy *cough*)
Out in the Open
Summary: You always loved to tease Steve Rogers, always messing around with him and just having fun. Little did you know, he was going to pay you back for all of the embarrassment in full.
Why the author likes this fic:
This was actually my first attempt at both the Marvel fandom and for Steve Rogers so I was really nervous posting this. It is now my most popular story and I’ve come to appreciate it as well. It’s filled to the brim with smut and I already have people killing me asking me for a second one (which I am writing, promise!!). This is a male reader for those of you who would either like or dislike that.
Author’s Fic Recommendations:
Contagious by @datfandombitch
Summary: In the first step to take down Abaddon, Dean needs to get the Mark of Cain. This proves to be a longer process than anticipated.
Why the author likes this fic:
I think this was one of the first fics that ever made me so h word that I couldn’t function for like a week afterwards. No like seriously, I go back and read this at least once a month, READ.IT.
Life For Rent by @winchest09
Summary: Y/N can be anyone for a price. Her life is ruled by contracts, men and money. It’s all she knows; countless identities, seedy clients, and strict regulations. She has to obey the rules, but her past is full of secrets and her future is resting in the wrong hands. But will her next client be the same as the rest?
Why the author likes this fic:
This was probably one of the first series I was ever REALLY into. And I mean really like I had caps lock on for 90% of my reblogs of this and I binged most of it in like a day. Go read this right now because it is unFAIRLY good. It’s a mobster Dean fic so if any of you say you won’t like it, you’re lying to yourselves.
Underworld’s Trilogy by @flamencodiva
Summary: Follow the story of Y/N Y/L/N, or Illiara as she is known in the worlds of the Greek Gods, and her adventures with the Winchesters.
Why the author likes this fic:
So this series currently has the first installment out, the second one pending since she is rewriting all of it. I think that this is my all time favorite series that I have ever read in my life. I am a fantasy geek and this just checks all the damn boxes. I was once asked if I could ever live out a fic or series I’ve read and I said this one with 0 hesitation. It’s so freaking good and I can’t even explain it’s perfection just please go read it right now if you haven’t already.
The Midnight Ride by @alleiradayne
Summary: Long is our list of ghost stories laid to rest. But when the dark rider returns thirty years after his exorcism at the hands of the Winchesters, Sam, Dean, and I are faced with the possibility that we’ve been wrong about one thing.
Why the author likes this fic:
This was the first thing that I had ever read by Alleira and it completely blew me away. It’s like poetry how scarily good she is with her words. Her descriptions, word choice, and just everything is absolutely amazing. I highly recommend this fic to anyone who enjoys a sophisticated read because I loved it with all of my heart.
Damon F*cking Salvatore by @downanddirtydean
Summary: Damon shows you what happens when you act like a little spoiled brat.
Why the author likes this fic:
Any kind of smut that Lydia writes always has me climbing the damn walls. There have been multiple instances where I have handed Lydia my smut card so she can just write it for me because it’s seriously ridiculous. This is a Damon Salvatore smut fic for any of you who enjoy his character, and just... don’t read this around anyone because you will die in a pool of sweat.
Thank you for checking out this week’s Friday Feature. Be sure to check out Mert’s blog, follow, send asks, go crazy! Check out all the fics linked and be sure to REBLOG and COMMENT!
Authors love to know what you think about their work - not just praise, but constructive criticism as well.
Constructive criticism is a helpful way of giving feedback that provides specific, actionable suggestions. Rather than providing general advice, constructive criticism gives specific recommendations on how to make positive improvements. Constructive criticism is clear, to the point and easy to put into action.
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Something you’ve read and loved?
Tag me! Send an ask! Drop a DM!
And as always, Happy Fanfic-ing!
Want even MORE? Check out the Friday Feature Masterlist!
Forevers:
@sis-tafics
@lyarr24
@calaofnoldor
@hobby27
@spnbaby-67
@fangirlxwritesx67
@jarpad24
@flamencodiva
@flashxspn
@donnaintx
FRIDAY FEATURE:
@deanwanddamons
@itmighthavebeenintentional
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Honestly the Supernatural ending was fucked all along, because to have a strong ending, a work has to resolve whatever tensions and questions it set up in the opening – not necessarily in an uncomplicated way, but it has to offer a kind of answer to the fundamental story questions.
The premise set up in The Woman in White is: Sam has a good life, Sam is an up-and-coming guy on his way to happiness and success, but Sam's father is not doing well; Sam is angry at his father, who he remembers as, at best, a habitual drunkard who kept Sam's life in chaos and then disowned him. So question number one is, given that Sam is better and happier now that he's no longer entangled with his father, should he revisit any of that? Does he continue to owe his father anything, should he help look for him, should he even care at all that his father might be in trouble? That feels like a clear no, not really, let John solve his own problems – until Jessica dies in the same way Mary did, and that introduces a twist. Has Sam actually misunderstood who his father was? Does John know, has John all along known something that Sam needs to know about his own past, that he can't live his happy life until he understands? The search for John is now about not just “does Sam owe his family anything?” – it's about “does Sam need his family?” And there's a plot resonance, but also a thematic resonance there: do you need your family? Even if your family's pretty fucked up? Does going back to your unhappy childhood serve some necessary function on your road to a successful adulthood? Can you pretend forever that you don't come from the fucked-up place you come from, or do you actually have to go back and understand the truth about who your parents were because the past is never just the past?
So the early seasons are largely about answering that question, through the vehicles of Sam, who would prefer not to admit that his fucked-up past can't really be run away from, and Dean, who would prefer not to admit that there was anything fucked-up about his past at all. Both of them learn and change: Sam begins to understand where he really comes from and why he can't separate himself from the forces that made him, and Dean begins to understand that yeah, actually, he should separate himself a lot more from the forces that made him, that it's foolish to hold up his father as some kind of infallible god, because even God isn't that. All the stories that spin out in the early seasons about Earth as the cosmic battleground for the family strife between Michael and Lucifer are linked to the pilot by that question: is there any escaping the reach of your family and its history? And the show decides, yeah, we have free will, we shouldn't just lie down and die because that's our inheritance. We should change the script. We can be better than our parents were. Better than we were ordered or prophesied to be. And the clear mechanism for all of this is love: Sam falls to Lucifer's influence when he's rejected again (Dean following in John's footsteps), but Sam is able to shake off that demonic control long enough to thwart Lucifer because Dean loves him and accepts him and remains with him when it looks like it's too late to save him (the thing John never did, couldn't do). Dean changes the script by being more able to love Sam unconditionally than John could, and the basic question of the premise is answered: you do have to go back to your family – not to accept or replicate their mistakes, but to do better, to love them better this time. You have to heal from the root. As a viewer, you can accept or reject this resolution; I personally like it, but I'm from that same cultural background, I have a family history that vibes with the things the show is discussing, I'm primed to like and agree with the conclusion. Maybe you're not, and that's okay! The point is, it is a conclusion to something. The show asked questions and then provided answers.
The problem is...the show answered its own questions in 5 seasons, and in such a way that the naturally satisfying conclusion was – literally anything else except more hunting. You can't say the Big Answer is loving and forgiving your family in spite of their flaws, and then also say that what you want to do with your life is The Family Business just as your father practiced it. Once you say that the prescription is to heal at the root, something should change. And it doesn't, really, because the show can't change. It has a formula. It's about hunting. Dean can't give up violence and become a family man, even though that's been clearly established as something he'd be better and happier doing. Sam can't pursue any dreams that weren't the dreams his father had for him, even though that's been clearly established as the thing he's been willing to fight for all along. So if the show isn't going to be over, they both have to actively choose to go against their own self-interest. And season 6 is pretty clever, actually – soulless!Sam is a device that does get them back on the road in a way that makes sense; we know why Sam isn't doing what's right for Sam, and we know that Dean can be convinced to do what's wrong for him in order to save Sam. It tracks. But it can't last, and what takes over pretty soon from there is...inertia, basically. They keep doing this because this is what they do. It doesn't really make them happy. It just feels necessary, because Hunters is what they are; no Hunters retire, in the whole show. They are never allowed. It is not done. They may lapse into more of a part-time gig, but nobody actually leaves the business, because it would be – bad. People would die, we guess? A hero never would, we guess? It's not terribly clear, but the general sense is that it just has to happen this way because this is their story now. This is who they are.
And that's the opposite of what the initial story was about. Now the story about using your free will to transform and redeem the dysfunctions you inherited is a story about two guys just working in the family business while they die inside of loneliness and PTSD. There's no story question in the later seasons; there's just stimulus and response. Oops, Leviathans. Oops, Mark of Cain. Oops, Amara. Oops, Lucifer and Lucifer and more Lucifer. Oops, Michael again. We better deal with that, I guess. Some of the storylines are okay in later seasons; some individual episodes are fantastic. But the whole thing is mired in the fact that there can't be forward momentum in the story because there are opponents and antagonists galore, but there's no internal engine to the story, no fundamental problem to conquer or question to resolve. From outside the story, we can sit here and say, Hey, it's a problem for me that these dudes are fucking miserable, I'd like them to work on resolving that! But within the story, they're never allowed to admit that is a problem. Because it's an adventure show about brave guys doing good deeds, and it's undermined at the most basic level if we come out and admit that what would make these dudes less miserable is no more fucking adventures, no more martyring themselves to do good deeds, no more hunting at all.
When the show came to an end, it was epically fucked, because it had nothing to resolve. And to give the show credit, it did try to do something interesting that would refer back to and provide a commentary on the whole show – this meta business about “have we all been God's favorite tv show all along?” There's something there; it reminds me of the CS Lewis quote about how he never worried that God didn't exist, but he did often fear that God was actually a vivisectionist. What if the reason this show has been churning along in place forever in spite of the characters' vivid and unchanging dissatisfaction with their life is that some other force wanted them to keep going on adventures? Maybe it's God, who's a writer (that's ground we've gone over before), but not just a writer – he's his only fan, his only audience. He's the Fandom. He's the Audience. He's us. Sam and Dean have been on this hamster wheel of labor and loss with no endpoint in sight because that's what we tune in to see; if they both quit, we change the channel. We're the ones who demand they Always Keep Fighting, who call them heroes for suffering through this endless parade of baddies and funerals. I mean, that's pretty good, as a way to retcon the complete pointlessness of the last ten years! The point is: it was fun to watch. We liked the characters and the episodes and we wanted them to keep doing that for our entertainment, even though we knew it wasn't any fun for them. It's basically the network tv version of Cabin In the Woods, and there's a – I would say mildly interesting question to raise there about what's drama, what's catharsis, what do we get out of stories about other people's suffering and other people's heroism? In my opinion it's a mildly interesting route to open up, although I don't know that there's enough meat on the bone to really make it pay off. An effort was clearly made, though!
But to follow that through to its conclusion, you'd have to answer it, and the way it's set up, there is no satisfying answer possible from inside the universe. We can answer what we get out of stories, perhaps. But why would that be of any interest or comfort to the people in the stories? Their story can't resolve for Sam and Dean if we learn it was actually a story about us the whole time.
So what do you do to end that story? Well, you're a little bit stuck. You can have them resign or get free somehow, sure, and the show does that. But what then? You have two choices, really: either we loop back to s6 and they keep being hunters because It's a Show About Two Hunters – only this time they have True Free Will so you have to assert that they're really freely choosing it, and you have to somehow justify that they would really freely choose to keep doing this thing that's never made them happy, which is depressing as shit – or you have them quit and go pursue their own lives and their own desires – which pretty much goes ahead and admits that the last ten seasons have been us the audience benefitting from the Winchesters' unwilling participation in this Saw-like theme park that was set up for our entertainment (via our stand-in, Chuck). That's clearly the bolder option, but it's also like – super fucked up! And it denies both the audience and, more critically, the people who make the show from having any real victory lap, any way to present the show as a completed entity and say “here's a great story that we're proud of and excited about.” It's such a bleak corner that the show has painted itself into at that point – all of this only happened against our heroes' will, but enjoy it anyway! Of course that got pushback. Of course people wanted to end with something that portrayed the characters as the drivers of the show, protagonists whose choices mattered, whose lives mattered. But they weren't, and they didn't. That was the premise the writers went with in season 15, because they needed to do something about the fact that nowhere in the past ten seasons had the Winchesters done anything on their own behalf, because they'd never been given story goals. All they'd been allowed to do is play whack-a-mole with monsters.
It's a mess all the way around, and it's almost impossible to resolve this late in the game. Season 15 couldn't be about the Winchesters resolving any real Stuff, because the show had long since realized that its prime directive was making sure that the fundamental pattern of the show remained intact: the boys go on adventures, bad things happen somewhere and the boys show up to stop it. And if that fundamental pattern is not a problem – if we're supposed to be glad it's there – then you can't allow any storylines that would end in changing it. Everything that's introduced has to be resolvable by a reversion to that vision of What We Do Around Here, so we can keep doing it. The legitimacy of What We Do Around Here is never allowed to be in question, and an attempt to question it at the very end of the series winds up inherently muddled and out-of-place. Third-act problems are always first-act problems, and the problem with the finale is that the show had spent so long actively reifying the value of an endless, unchanging sequence of events and actively working to quash anything that started looking like a linear story that would end in a place other than where it began.
I like a lot of the plotlines and episodes and characters in the later season. Honestly, 12 is probably my favorite season, just on the weight of good episodes I enjoy watching. But the only part of Supernatural that ever had a coherent story at the heart of it was the original five seasons, where things were set up, explored, and resolved in Swan Song with admirable narrative focus and direction. Everything after that was just stuff that happened, which is not what a story is, and you can't come back from that in the series finale and somehow make it work.
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The House That Built Me - Repost
Title: The House That Built Me
Author: Kat
Reader Gender: N/A
Word Count: ~1k
Summary: This happens between 10.22 and 10.23 when Dean disappears for a bit
Warnings: ANGST
A/N: Based on the song The House That Built Me by Miranda Lambert <3 Reposting cause I think my tags didn't work
Character: Dean Winchester
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Tags:
@mysaintsasinner @blacktithe7 @torn-and-frayed @the-jette @supernatural-jackles @iwantthedean @mrswhozeewhatsis @kittenofdoomage @bringmesomepie56 @thing-you-do-with-that-thing @impala-dreamer
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Dean stared at the house from inside the impala. His gaze then lowered to his lap. He thought of the photo he had on his desk at home of Mary and him. That tree was still there, bigger, older and creakier than ever. The house was a light blue now and the mailbox read FRITZCH instead of WINCHESTER.
Jenny had moved from the house shortly after the Winchester’s had saved her family. According to records, the Fritzch family moved in a year later and renovated the house. Dean pondered what the Fritzch’s might have done with the house. How it had changed. He’d sworn never to come back here, yet he stared at the house where he grew up.
Dean got out of the car, a surge of courage propelled him to the porch. Before he could think, his fist rapped twice on the door. Dean looked down and saw the family had left the original cement porch when they renovated. Two tiny handprints were stuck in the cement, a moment frozen in time so long ago.
A woman answered the door, hesitantly cracking it so only part of her face was visible. She had honey colored hair that was pulled back in a long plait and chocolate brown eyes that showed confusion and distrust. Dean tried to give her a friendly smile, but it came across his face pained and hurt.
“Who are you?” She asked, opening the door slightly more so he could see her heart shaped face. .
“Ma’am, I know you don’t know me from here in Lawrence, but-” he wasn’t sure what to say next and he faltered. I lived here until a demon burned my mother, home and life to the ground? His eyes fell on the porch again, then he raised them back to meet hers. “These handprints on the front steps are mine.”
Her eyes flicked from him to the porch and back again. More words spilled from Dean’s mouth.
“Up those stairs,” he pointed behind the woman, “in that little back bedroom, is where I had my Legos and I played with my toy cars. I bet you didn’t know, under that live Oak, my favorite dog is buried in the yard.”
Dean had no idea why he shared that much information with her. She was staring at him and he willed away the heat that was climbing his neck into his cheeks. He absentmindedly ran his hand along the trim near the door jamb. He was so stupid to think that coming here would fix everything, would heal him, or fill the emptiness he felt.
He expected the woman to slam the door in his face. Any sane person would, but she remained half-hidden by the door. He met her eyes; they had softened to a look of concern. Dean realized that he was staring at her through watery tears. He tried to wipe them away, but a tear slipped out and he felt the wetness streak his cheek.
“If I could just come in, I swear I’ll leave,” Dean pleaded, against his better judgement. His voice was thick and deep. “Won’t take nothin’ but a memory.”
She opened the door wide enough for him to slip inside. Dean was put back into his childhood as he looked around him. Blurry memories of running around with his dad and his mother leading him up the stairs to bed. A barking dog at the door when John came home from work. The woman beckoned him to the kitchen. Dean stared around. The appliances and furniture were new and modern, but the arrangement was the same. Dean remembered sitting at the table, eating apple pie, while his mother cooked and cleaned.
“So, you grew up here?” The woman asked, shaking Dean back to the present. She opened the refrigerator and offered him a can of Coca-Cola. He took it and nodded.
“Till I was four,” Dean said, swallowing hard.
“I’m surprised you remember that long ago,” she sounded quite surprised.
Dean wasn’t sure how to respond. To keep himself busy, he cracked open the can and took a sip.
“It’s the only home I’ve ever known,” Dean murmured, sipping again. “Unless you count a car.”
Dean swallowed hard and took another drink of the pop. He felt like a stranger in this home; he had hoped he would feel at home, but he didn’t. He felt awkward and out of place. What had he expected from doing this, he wasn’t sure now.
“I’m sorry for bothering you,” Dean said suddenly, putting the Coke down on the counter. “I shouldn’t have- I should go.”
Dean pulled himself together and headed towards the front door. Kill. Rip. Tear… The thought ran through his mind. He shook his head and tried to push the thought from his mind. His arm burned and another thought crossed his mind. One he didn’t think,
Let me bask in blood again. Let me rip her, consume her.
“Hey, it’s okay,” the woman stood in front of him, stopping him from reaching the front door. She smelled of vanilla and fresh cotton. “I get it. You just wanted to see the place again, right? Remember home?”
“I- I don’t know. I-”
The taste of damp iron
“I swore I’d never come back-”
Pooling in my mouth
“I thought if I came back,”
Kill, Rip, Tear! The thought grew loud in his head. He couldn’t fight the Mark much longer.
“the brokenness inside me might start healing,”
Give me blood!
“I thought that maybe I could find myself.”
Feel the blood drip down your chin!
“Are you okay? You’re white as a sheet,” She touched his arm. His right arm, just below the crook of the elbow.
“I was wrong,” Dean choked out.
He extracted himself from the woman and fled from his childhood home. He jumped in the impala, started it and tore off north, away from the innocent life the Mark of Cain wanted to take. His cell phone started ringing - it was Rudy. A case of vampires in Superior, Nebraska.
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15.17 Final Thoughts (2/2)
Part one here. OKAY, let’s Talk About Dean™, shall we?
Dean has been flatly angry this season—really, he hasn’t meaningfully moved past the place he was in at 14.20 or 15.01. This empty rage, clawing for moral high ground, searching for some vicious place of agency and righteousness, has manifested in ugly ways all season, from the way he’s treated Cas and Jack, to stuff like executing the vampire kid in 15.04 or the bar dude in 15.07. Sam has not been exempt from complicity in this pattern; we’ve seen a lot more unthinking hunts, like in 15.10 or 15.15, wherein the motive and the story is secondary to the necessity of the Success of the Justified Kill at the end of the book. The shorthand for hunting this season has been killing things, not saving people.
Dean saying Jack isn’t family: FINALLY. thank you. It’s true, it’s always been true, this has always been Dean’s opinion, since season 13: his affection for Jack has always been fundamentally conditional. And I’m so glad to hear him openly acknowledge it in a way neither Jack nor Sam can make excuses for. (even though poor Jack, bless his heart, still tries—in the sense that he understands Dean’s straightforward hostility in a simple way that is nearly a comfort. More on that in a separate post.)
Dean’s speech to Jack in the car: wowowowow. Dean pushing Jack to suicide SURE IS SOMETHING, ain’t it? Amazing. He tells Jack, with no sense of irony or illusion, thank you for killing yourself so that Sam and I can finally be free to have a life. What’s so FUNNY here is that Dean easily could have said many things that would have been more sympathetic—like, thanks for doing this to save the world. Instead, the way he contextualizes the worth of Jack’s sacrifice is in exactly the same terms Billie used last episode: what it means for him personally.
This is an unsightly peak of selfishness. Even during the sporadic times Dean tries in this episode and in 15.16 to contextualize his need to be free of Chuck as something for Sam’s sake as much as his own, his protectiveness is much more explicitly and significantly of Their Lives. And Their Lives are not equally Sam’s: their little world’s status quo, the car the hunt the music, belongs to Dean. The amount of ownership that Dean’s had? Made him more vulnerable to the revelation of Chuck’s control, and more unhinged as he seeks to win it back. Dean’s sense of self is much less relentlessly internal than Sam’s, going back even to childhood.
I know you feel that way about Chuck, Sam says, because he has known this feeling since season 5, the revelation that every choice he made, every tiny rebellion he thought he managed, was in service to a dark plan. He knows, and he knows Dean is not dealing well, and he knows why.
I’ve already written a lot about the rest of Sam’s speech, but I gotta repeat anyway how much I LOVE Sam’s stubborn insistence that, yeah, Dean, you definitely protected me from Dad and Lucifer both, and it is in fact the only thing I’m 100% certain of.
Dean threatens Sam with lethal violence. This is not the first time, obviously, but the way it happened actually is a pretty fascinating break from tradition!
For one, this is not a Moral High Ground Thing. Dean is making no judgment here; he’s not killing Sam For His Own Good. Sam isn’t on his knees. It’s not that Dean thinks Sam is in the grip of some dark power. Dean knows Sam is just, y’know, disagreeing with him over Jack’s suicide.
This is also not an Under the Influence thing. Dean isn’t a demon, he isn’t possessed, he isn’t bearing the Mark of Cain. This is straight up, unthinking rage and frustration, unleashed in destructiveness.
If Dean HAD gone through with shooting Sam here, I’m certain he would have regretted it instantly and view it as an awful mistake [and probably we’d be watching him castigate himself over this terrible sad unavoidable tragedy]. Ironically enough, Jack’s accidental killing of Mary in 14.17 would then be the closest point of comparison—and that’s being way too generous to Dean. Jack didn’t actually intend to point lethal power at anyone, whereas Dean very much chose to aim and cock his gun.
Dean…. isn’t really a very good agent of free will, historically. In times of crisis, Dean has a pattern of being willing to go along with the first plan that gives him some kind of autonomy or power, even if it takes away more of his or someone else’s autonomy in the long term (see: selling his soul in s2; signing up for Team Heaven in s4; nearly saying yes to Michael in s5; letting Gadreel possess Sam in s9; accepting the Mark of Cain in s9; agreeing to throw himself into space and kill Sam for Death in s10; saying yes to Michael to kill Lucifer in s13; nearly caging himself in the Ma’lak box in s14; nearly shooting Jack on Chuck’s orders in s14; going along with Billie’s plan in s15). He often finds himself willing to give up freedom for security. Which isn’t always the wrong decision, sometimes it’s prudent! But he’s much less of a contrarian than what he sells himself as.
Sam, actually, for all the times that he’s lost his autonomy, and for all that he is often narratively subordinated, is the one who’s the eternal spanner in the works. He talks Dean down from a bunch of the previous examples. He’s the guy whose dramatic speeches are ruining all of Chuck’s fratricide fics—expressions of Chuck’s issues with his own sister. It’s Sam who had the bullet wound connection to Chuck’s mind, and it’s Sam who paralleled Amara this episode. Sam is a placater, Sam is the guy that Chuck really, really has a problem with, and I want to see this explored more.
Dean threatened to kill Sam because Sam was refusing to accept his fate. The destiny that Sam refused was killing Jack, who has been Sam’s investment, Sam’s kid, and Sam’s parallel, to help Dean escape his destiny. This feels like a thesis, or something like it: it’s an encapsulation of how Sam and Dean’s fates are tied together not just by love, but by an undeniable core of violence and a chilling imbalance of emotional power: love and protection inosculated with harm. Dean’s angry, he’s breaking down, he’s going off the rails, and it’s in the face of this that Sam, with blood on his face, offers unity: he tearfully makes his pitch, insists that Dean is good, that Dean won’t sacrifice Sam, that his protection is true.
#spn spoilers#15.17#final thoughts#I have even more to say probably#but I feel like I'm losing some coherence#I heartily invite discussion!!#I feel like I've still got things to sort out about this episode#and I think a major element to that is because it's so very endgame#sam and dean#dean and anger#dean and autonomy#dean and jack#Dean and free will#dean and chuck
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Imagine...being a demon and hunting Dean down
CarryOnCap’s Masterlist Dean Winchester Masterlist
Summary: When Dean says he knows you better than anybody, you’re surprised to find out that you may have more of a history with the Winchesters than you can remember...
Warnings: very slight Season 15 *SPOILERS* for like a paragraph; mentions of “need to kill”; slight angst and open-ish ending, but implied TFW 2.0 win
A/N: Written for @wayward-mikaelson‘s #Daily Imagine Prompt and (unintentionally) for @winchester-reload‘s #Suptober20 day 4 prompt “Brand” (even though I’m working on my actual entry sketches!) Idk where this came from and it took a weird route. Also, there’s an unintentional...nod? paraphrasing maybe? of dialogue from CA: The Winter Soldier, so credit to the MCU writers for permanently snaking their way into my subconscious because my love for Steve and Bucky apparently knows no bounds.
“If it isn’t the notorious Dean Winchester,” you sneered. “As fun as this little game of cat and mouse has been, you Winchesters are really starting to piss me off.”
They’d been tailing you all across the country and you’d had enough. Sure, you were a demon, but it wasn’t like you set out to hurt anyone. As long as everyone else could mind their own business, you liked to think you were pretty easygoing.
…aside from a few bloody slip ups here and there but, hey, who was counting?
At least you weren’t one of those crossroad douches in the soul collecting business. You preferred to spend your time topside, having fun and wreaking a little havoc now and again. It had been going just fine until those plaid-wearing pests became obsessed with you. Eventually you’d decided to hunt them down for a change so you could finally get a little peace.
You hadn’t spotted the tall, sasquatch Hunter yet, but you’d caught the green eyed one by surprise and knocked him to his knees. Glaring down at him with a smirk, you kept a firm hold on the pressure point of his shoulder to make sure he stayed right where you wanted him.
“Did the cat catch your tongue? Because, with all of our showdowns lately, I was expecting a little more of that quick wit you always seem to have stowed away.”
If you were being honest, he was a pretty fine piece of ass and you wouldn’t mind going a round or two with him under different circumstances. Even with the dopey look of intensity on his face, laced with...something you couldn’t quite put your finger on.
Distress? Of course it would make sense for him to feel that way--you were a demon after all. Was there a hint of longing in the way he was staring at you? Maybe he couldn’t help thinking you were attractive despite what you were.
Who cares? You practically growled at yourself, chasing away something nagging in the back of your mind that told you there was more to his reaction. Pretending you didn’t actually care because you were incapable of such feelings anymore.
“D’you remember me?” he asked, eyes darting back and forth between yours.
Fuck, he was gorgeous. And it was really hard not to get caught up in his eyes. Why did that piss you off so much?
“Of course I do. You two meatheads have been on my ass everywhere across this godforsaken world,” you spat. “I know we’ve had a grand ol’ time and all, but listen up because I’m only going to say this once-- Leave. Me. Alone. If I catch you two on my tail again, I won’t be such a ray of fucking sunshine.”
He studied you for a long moment, seemingly unfazed by your threat.
“What do you remember about becoming a demon?”
You narrowed your eyes and tilted your head at his question. “What does that have to do with anything? And why the hell would it matter to you?”
“Because it does. Now I’m gonna go out on a limb here and guess you don’t remember a whole lot about what happened to you. That there’s some gaps you just can’t seem to fill in.”
“And let me guess--you just happen to have all the answers to that because you know me so well?”
“I do. I know you better than anybody.”
You weren’t sure what game he was trying to play or how he could possibly know how disconcerting it was that you couldn’t recall a damn thing before the last month or two. Your life as a human, your time in hell-- you didn’t have the slightest idea who you were or what had happened to you.
But there was no way you were going to listen to some Winchester--even if your gut told you he was telling the truth.
“I highly doubt that,” you retorted, seething with defiance.
“You know me--”
“No I don’t,” you snarled, unsure why his words were making you feel so unsettled.
“Your name is Y/N L/N. You’ve known me and Sammy your whole life. You--ngh--”
He flinched and groaned in pain when you tightened your grip, digging your thumb into the hollow area just below the crook of his neck and above his collarbone. With your other hand, you withdrew a large blade from the side holster you’d crafted yourself.
“Sorry, sweetheart. I’ve had enough of the foreplay.”
Dean threw a sidelong glance at the weapon. His nostrils flared as he clenched his jaw and fixed his olive eyes on you again.
“I know you’ve been bouncing around looking for answers on that blade. Just like I know that underneath that jacket of yours you’ve got a mark on your arm. And I know from the small trail of bodies you’ve been leaving behind that you’re trying to fight that hunger you have to kill anything and everything around you.”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Your voice quivered between your gritted teeth.
“It’s called the Mark of Cain. And that right there is the First Blade.” He nodded toward the weapon without a trace of deceit on his face. “I know the calm you feel when you’ve got the blade in your hand. And that power flowing through you? It scares the hell out of you.”
You grimaced, placing the antique blade against his throat as your chest began to heave from the growing rage pulsing through your veins. What gave him the right to pretend he knew a damn thing about you?
Maybe he was right. Maybe you could admit the power did scare you sometimes. You didn’t exactly give a shit about right and wrong, but the overwhelming urge to kill left you feeling out of control. It was why you were trying to uncover answers about the brand on your arm. Why you were fighting a losing battle with the trembling hand gripping the blade now-- you wanted answers and you needed him to keep talking.
“How do you know all of this?” you demanded.
He swallowed uncomfortably and the blade bobbed against his Adam’s apple. “It was Chuck--uh, God. You’re a Hunter, Y/N. You, me, Sam, Cas, Jack--we’re family. Chuck’s trying to end the world and we were working to stop him. On our last run-in with him...we thought he killed you. But it turns out he sent you to some other universe he’d created. In this world I had the Mark and, when I died, I became a demon. In the other world he tossed you into, we think that’s what happened to you. ‘Bout a month or two ago, somehow you found your way back to this world and we’ve been trying to track you down ever since.”
Furrowing your brow, your eyes fell away from him as glimpses of the events he’d described flashed through your mind. You squeezed your eyes closed, trying to latch onto fragments of the hazy memories emerging from the depths of your subconscious...
Dean screaming your name, face contorted with horror. A small man with graying hair and a wicked grin snapping his fingers. Your hand gripping someone’s forearm, just as his strong hand grasped yours. The deep red energy that flowed from his arm to yours, searing through your veins until the Mark bubbled to the surface of your skin--the scar that was always itching to let the darkest parts of you reign free.
“We can help, Y/N. Me and Sam can fix this.” Dean’s gruff voice was resolute as he briefly glanced away and begged you to consider his offer. “Just come with us and we can cure you.”
His words stirred something in your chest, making you realize he had triggered the faint prick of some long forgotten emotion. A small part of you longed to go with him, but it was miniscule and insignificant when you considered that “fixing this” might mean getting rid of the Mark.
Despite the fear and lack of control it brought you, you were unwilling to give up the power or the blade. It was an addiction you had no intention of overcoming.
“Maybe I don’t want to be cured. The way I see it? There’s nothing to fix. Time to say goodnight, Dean-O.”
You raised the blade but, before you could strike, something cinched around your wrist. When the power coursing through you became dull, you turned in surprise to see that Sam had secured your wrist in one end of the cuffs he held. He reached for the blade with his free hand and swiftly dodged you when you lunged at him after releasing your hold on Dean.
Snarling in rage, you again swung at Sam while he tried to wrestle the blade from your grasp. Dean suddenly collided with your back, circling his arms around you as he pinned your limbs to your sides. You thrashed your head and screamed as you tried to escape, but his cheek was pressed between your shoulder blades, tucked safely away from your efforts of fracturing his nose with the back of your skull.
“It’s okay, Y/N,” he grunted, arms tense as he squeezed you tighter. “We’re gonna fix this. You’re okay, sweetheart.”
“Dean, I still...can’t...she’s too strong,” Sam grumbled.
You continued struggling while you gripped the blade with every bit of strength you had. As you fought the boys, you spotted a young man in a tan jacket walking toward you who had seemingly appeared out of nowhere. He looked vaguely familiar and you surged toward him out of instinct, knowing he was a greater threat than the men holding you.
His hair was side swept, with a few of the sandy colored strands grazing his forehead. His eyebrows were drawn together over soft eyes, brimming with an array of emotions. The boy raised his hand in greeting, smiling in relief as if he’d managed to find a long lost family member.
“Hello, Y/N... We’re going to help you. I promise. Sam and Dean will find a way to fix this.”
“Do it, Jack!”
“Any time now, kid.”
The boys shouted in unison and you paused for a fraction of a second as another series of memories flooded you. Before you could make sense of them, Jack reached out and pressed two fingers to your forehead.
Your knees buckled and your eyes fluttered closed as you slipped into unconsciousness.
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what makes you think the writers want deancas? not trying to be an asshole, i'm just genuinely curious as to why you think that. i know berens' episodes are pretty heavy with subtext so i can see why you'd say that he wants it, but i'm not so sure about the rest of the writers/dabb. it seems like meghan isn't a huge fan either, given her "they twisted it so fast" tweet :/ of course she's a very new writer (think she's only writing one ep this season?) but still
OKAY this is a great question, welcome to my dissertation.
I’m going to address the end of your question first. Meghan is actually DeanCas positive, she has been for quite a long time. She actually, a few years back, posted a picture of her reading a literal book about Destiel and captioned it “writing reading” or something like that.
This whole thing just comes out of a boiling over of tensions because of how nasty fandom twitter can be. Like I said here, I think this has just gotten blown out of proportion, they shouldn’t have posted all this randomly disparaging stuff, but also like...can you blame them? The fandom is a lot, we always have been, and they’re probably also under a gag order not to talk about the finale, and are annoyed that people keep asking.
So nah, Meg is not anti Destiel.
To the first part!! So let’s take a look at the show runners since Cas has been around.
Seasons 4 and 5: Kripke
Seasons 6 and 7: Gamble
Seasons 8-11ish: Carver
Seasons 11ish-15: Dabb
So starting with Kripke. Okay, yes, I will be the first to admit that we have some pretty incredible Destiel moments in these seasons, but it’s less directly written into the plot and much more from Misha and Jensen’s uhhhh ~chemistry~. The only times it was directly written into the script was when the episode was handled by someone like Edlund (“On The Head Of A Pin,” “The End,” “My Bloody Valentine”). And you have to remember, if in season 5, there are moments here and there where you’re like huh that’s suspiciously romantic dialogue, remember that Cas took Anna’s place. Anna was supposed to be endgame for Dean, but due to a myriad of issues and Misha’s general greatness, Anna was replaced with Cas.
Onto 6 and 7. Hmmm. Gamble. 6 and 7 are my two least favorite seasons and that’s no secret, and that’s not only due to the plain old weird shit in the overall storyline, but also that homegirl killed off Cas in s7 and then Bobby like four episodes later. (Also it ALWAYS rubbed me the wrong way they couldn’t have Baby in that season lol). We still had some great DeanCas moments, but again, it wasn’t really written into the overall arc (until they had to change the end of season 7 because of tanking ratings and bring Misha back lol, anyone remember the fact that Dean kept Cas’ jacket and would randomly dream of him? Yeah.). But we still had those moments, those distinctly romantic moments, probably the best example in these two seasons is from Edlund again, specifically “The Man Who Would be King,” I wrote a little about that here.
We move onto Carver, who gave us, at this point, the most overt DeanCas season with season 8 (season gr8 is a better name imo), and this is the first time Dean and Cas’ relationship is directly written as an arc of the season. I mean, you have everything in Purgatory, Dean “seeing” Cas everywhere, the fact that he felt so guilty that Cas stayed in Purgatory that he manipulated his own memories to think that he was the one that failed Cas, because he couldn’t comprehend that Cas would want to leave him, and let’s not forget Dean snapping Cas out of Naomi’s hold on him in “Goodbye Stranger.” It was a very obvious shift, not enough to alert the general audience, but more than enough for most of us in fandom.
It’s also important to note that this is when Andrew stopped co writing with Loflin and started writing his own episodes (”Hunter Heroici” anyone?) I like Loflin fine, but Dabb was able to stretch his legs a little bit more once he stopped co-writing, and we also began to see some DeanCas themes in his solo episodes.
In any case, them and their issues being a big part of the seasons continued with Carver, and Berens entered the scene, his first episode (”Heaven Can’t Wait”) is one of my favorites, with human Cas and the fanfiction gap and Dean and Cas just generally being awkward and funny and sweet. This is Bobo’s FIRST episode, remember that. He comes right out of the gate with it.
Also in Season 9, this is when Dean takes the Mark of Cain, and the Cas/Colette mirror is born, so obviously, Dean and Cas are the fabric of the season once again. This is also the season where Metatron says Cas is “in love with humanity,” and then immediately refers to Dean as Humanity so uhhhh yeah.
Onto season 10, Dabb and Berens continue with their greatness (I could write pages on the DeanCas date in “The Things We Left Behind” alone). And then we have one of the best scenes in the entire show in “The Prisoner” where the Cas/Colette mirror continues and Dean, driven by grief and pain and rage and the Mark, still doesn’t kill Cas. He still can’t kill Cas.
Season 11 is important because it takes choice away from both Cas and Dean, and shows us, as the audience, how much losing each other takes out of them. We saw in season 10 how much losing Dean takes from Cas, but what about Cas losing Dean? Dean loses his choice with his connection to Amara this season, and loses even more when Lucifer reveals he’s been possessing Cas, and plays on Dean’s connection to Cas like a mockery. It’s also worth noting that, similarly to season 8, Dean breaks out of the connection with Amara when he’s worried about Cas, and that’s something that even SHE is surprised by.
But then season 12, the beginning to the Renaissance. This is when we get the writer’s that become important for what Dean and Cas are today, and, truly, why I believe they want canon Destiel as much as we do.
This is the first season with Dabb’s writers: Davy Perez, Meredith Glynn, Steve Yockey, and of course Bobo all come in with their incredible talents and gave us episode after episode of good content. “Lily Sunder Has Some Regrets” is probably my favorite, probably the best example of what I’m saying. An episode where Dean is called out by an enemy directly, told to “roll the dice” on Cas’ life. And Dean won’t, it’s not even really a hesitation. And this comes from a character that has known Dean for ten seconds. I also wrote more in depth about this episode here. There are also some.....distinctly domestic details we get this season, specifically in “The Future” (written by Berens and Glynn) with the mixtape. The most tropey of tropes mixtape. Yeah, I’ll just leave that one here.
And then season 12 ends with Cas’ death, but also with the parallel between Sam and Dean with Jess and Cas. Sam literally has to drag Dean away from Cas, just like Dean had to drag Sam out of his burning apartment in the pilot. The episode drives it home in every way that it can: Dean is the one left kneeling by Cas’ body, while Sam goes to find out what is upstairs. Dean is the one who stares at the sky, finally broken. This isn’t a random thing, this is Dean’s whole arc, it’s the entirety of the beginning of 13. Dean’s pain, his anguish, his anger.
Season 13 starts with them burning Cas, with Dean, who has begged God to bring him back, who has split his knuckles punching a door, standing, staring at Cas’ pyre with brokenness on his face.
I mean.....
Anyway, season 13 is where it gets interesting (well, I think all of this is interesting but I’m a writer nerd so). So Cas comes back from the Empty in “Advanced Thanatology” written by Steve Yockey, and then a wombo combo of “Tombstone” by Davy Perez next (”Brokebacknatural” as the PR said at the time). Listen. This is the part that SPN crossed a line that they couldn’t come back from. With Cas being Dean’s “big win,” the fact that Dean and Cas watch movies together, “I told you, he’s an angry sleeper. Like a bear.” Talked about it here.
This is where, in my opinion, the network stepped in, but the damage was already done. They had already established that Cas was Dean’s big win, that Dean’s poor coping was not due to Mary’s disappearance, but solely due to Cas, and that Dean and Cas have more married energy than anyone else. The network had nixed blatant canon at this point, and they writing room had been pushing the boundaries of what the network would allow.
After these episodes, we see a marked drop off of DeanCas heavy scenes. They’re still there, still a part of the fabric of the season, but not as...obvious as it had been in early season 13.
And this continued through season 14, we’re back to scraps of Destiel scenes here and there, but to me it always felt like there was something bubbling under the surface, something distinctly unsaid in the themes of the season, even after the walk back of obvious “Dean and Cas are in love” scenes.
And then we get to season 15, which, y’all know I talk about all the time. What’s important here is that Bobo and Glynn are both executive producers, calling more of the shots than ever before. Additionally, it’s important to note that, though they only co write occasionally, Glynn and Berens refer to each other as “work husband” and “work wife.” Each episode has just turned up the volume, and, not for the first time, but certainly the most obvious, Dean and Cas ARE the season. Sure, they’re trying to beat God, they’re trying to finally find peace, defeat the final big bad, but really? This season has been about Dean, and Dean’s relationship to Cas.
And not only do we have obvious and clear Destiel in nearly every episode, but we have episodes like “Last Call” which canonize bi!Dean (wrote about that here).
And, maybe most importantly so far, we have “The Rupture,” the breakup, and “The Trap,” Dean’s confession (both written by Berens). And here’s the thing. These episodes feel connected, but also feel like they’re missing something. Beren’s last episode is 15x18, “The Truth.” We’ve all spec’ed about what could happen in this episode, and I think *I* know what it’s leading to. But for it to be leading to that, it means that the network has to have approved what we’ve all been waiting for years for.
Who got this change to happen? Who got the network to change their minds? It wasn’t us. It was them. I am fully convinced that Dabb and Berens quite literally put their careers on the line for Dean and Cas. They believe in them, they’ve shown that from the beginning, but the only thing standing in the way was the network, never allowing them to take the final step.
So, to answer your question: I think the writers want canon DeanCas because they’ve already shown us that they do. Take a look at their episodes, at Dabb’s, at Beren’s, at Glynn’s, at Perez’s, at Yockey’s. They’ve been telling us what’s going on with Dean and Cas for years.
Sure, I’m not in their heads, I guess I don’t know for *sure* that this has been their thought process, but if we put it all together, from the marked shift when Dabb fully took over in s12, to the change right after “Tombstone,” to the new shift, the blatantly romantic shift in season 15, what else is there?
I’ve said for a long time that we, the SPN fandom, are beyond lucky to have the writer’s that we do. They’re all going to go on to have prolific careers and we were lucky to get them at the end of our little show. I give them a lot of credit for what we have in the show today.
Just remember, they’ve been telling us in all of s15 who Chuck is. He says he’s the writer, right? But a writer who doesn’t have control of his characters? A writer who wants to do the same ending over and over because it “works”? That doesn’t sound like a writer, it sounds like a network exec.
They’ve been showing us what they want for years, and the way s15 is going? I think they may have convinced the network to let us have it.
#supernatural#destiel#spn#my writing#anyway yeah i love these writers#welcome to my essay lmao#spn writers#anonymous#lilly answers
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